Battle of Souls
by lilyevansJan30
Summary: Harry discovers he is a Horcrux in his 6th Year, to potentially disastrous results. Can friendships old and new be repaired in time to save them all?
1. Everything is Not Okay

A/N: I'm finally getting around to reposting this; special thanks to a couple of readers who sent private messages asking for it! It may go up more slowly than some of my other stories; there are things I want to edit as I go along. It was one of my first long stories, and I think it's a little wordy in places. I'll let you know in other notes if I make any substantive changes to a chapter.

 **1\. Everything is Not Okay**

"Will you just give it up, mate?" The irritation in Ron's voice was more pronounced this time as he looked across the train compartment at Harry. "I mean, we _know_ you think it's suspicious. But when has Malfoy ever done anything on the up and up? I think you're overreacting."

Harry sighed in frustration and leaned back against the train seat. He and Ron had been having similar versions of this same argument ever since they had followed Draco down into Knockturn Alley the week before. Harry was certain that Draco's threats to Borgin were serious and should be taken as such. Ron had agreed that Malfoy was up to, well, _something_ , but neither he nor Hermione seemed terribly concerned about what that something might be. It didn't make sense.

Ron especially had always been willing, eager even, to believe the worst about the Slytherin in the past, and Harry couldn't understand his lack of interest now. Particularly since the three of them were all operating under an unspoken agreement to pretend that everything was _normal_. Even though they all knew that it really wasn't.

In the week following the death of Sirius at the Department of Mysteries, Harry, Ron and Hermione had barely spoken to each other. To be completely fair, Harry didn't really speak to anyone. He couldn't exactly explain what was wrong, other than the obvious, of course. The guilt was familiar. He kept replaying Sirius' last moments over in his mind, kicking himself for being so gullible. How did he actually believe the lies of a house elf who had clearly loathed his master? If he wasn't so into his "saving people" thing, he might have stopped to listen to Hermione's concerns, might have considered the reasons for the Occlemancy lessons, might have remembered the enchanted mirrors, might, might, might.

And Sirius would still be alive and Harry would not have dragged his closest friends into what could have, and should have, been a massacre.

But there was something else besides the guilt and grief, a feeling that had no name. Like rage, but deeper and emptier. And an intense desire to separate himself from everyone because of an anxiousness he did not understand. It wasn't Voldemort's voice or thoughts he heard during these times, but his emotions weren't his own either. The feeling usually hit suddenly, leaving Harry almost physically ill as it passed, struggling to make apologies and excuses for his angry outbursts or blank moments. He had taken to blaming most of the feelings on his friends; if they hadn't been acting so oddly, he wouldn't be so angry. The more he thought about it that way, the more sense it made to him.

Truth be told, none of the six who had fought at the Ministry were dealing with the aftermath particularly well. It might have made sense for them all to get together to talk about what had happened, but as close as most of them were with each other, they were all quite different when it came to trauma, and dealing with it. When they were together, it seemed like everyone just wanted to pretend that nothing had happened.

And that was why Ron, Harry and Hermione were sitting silently together in the train compartment when, in any other year, they would have been deep in discussion about what could possibly be going on with Draco, or more likely, analyzing Dumbledore's promise to begin teaching Harry personally this year. But now, even that request was not enough to break the silence that stole over the trio. Ginny was off with Dean somewhere, Neville had deposited his things and hadn't returned, and no one really had any idea where Luna was.

Harry watched as Ron rubbed his forearm unconsciously; he was still obviously annoyed that Harry continued to pursue his suspicions. But there was something else on his face too, a hesitance that Harry had never seen before. If he hadn't known Ron nearly as well as he knew himself, Harry might have said that Ron actually looked _nervous_. But about Malfoy?

The look was gone before Harry could register what it meant, Ron's face rearranging itself back into the careful blandness that usually marked his features these days.

Harry was suddenly annoyed again. Ron was still clutching his arm, no doubt trying to subtly remind Harry of the injury he had suffered when the escaped brains had wrapped around him. The scars were fading, but still apparent, and Harry had the impression that, despite his strange nervousness, Ron still enjoyed the attention he got whenever someone noticed the lines carved around his hand and up his arm. Even though he knew he probably shouldn't, Harry couldn't resist getting in another dig.

"I bet Malfoy's arm hurts worse than that," he remarked, deliberately trying to keep his tone conversational. "You know, where he had the Dark Mark branded."

Ron stopped rubbing his arm, but instead of the sharp retort Harry had expected, he just looked scared again, and stared down at the floor. Hermione was the one to look at Harry, a tired expression on her face.

"Enough, Harry."

Harry deflated, his anger disappearing as quickly as it had come, and he studied his other best friend for a long minute. For once, Hermione was not pouring through her schoolbooks or boring them with yet another story from Hogwarts, A History. She was just sitting and watching Harry sadly, as if she couldn't quite understand what had led him to antagonize Ron.

That made sense. Harry couldn't understand it either.

The door to the compartment swung open and Padma Patil looked in at them.

"Ron, Hermione, there's a prefects' meeting, remember?" The Ravenclaw looked curiously at the trio; no one had ever had to remind Hermione about a meeting before.

Hermione frowned and then nodded, gathering up her things and looking back at Ron. He shuffled after her, mumbling a quiet "bye" at Harry as he left.

The compartment door clicked shut, and Harry was alone. He sighed and looked out the window. Being by himself was a relief, and he wondered what exactly was going on with his friends. It wasn't like they hadn't all survived dangerous situations before. Every single year, actually. And he didn't think any of them blamed him for what had happened, even though Harry felt that blame was quite deserved. He supposed it could be about losing Sirius, but even that didn't seem to be it. Sirius had been _his_ godfather, so the sadness and guilt were to be expected for him at least. But why was Ron so scared? And Hermione. If he was being kind, he would call her pre-occupied, but not in the way she got around finals time, or with S.P.E.W. Scattered was more like it.

Anger was building up inside Harry again, irrational anger at Ron and Hermione, and the others. Here he was, just having lost one of the most important people in life, and none of them seemed to really _care_. Instead of trying to suppress these strange feelings yet again, Harry embraced them, going over in his mind all the ways his closest friends had let him down in recent weeks.

Luna, for instance. What had happened to her odd, but tension-breaking comments that made everything seem less overwhelming? The one time Harry had talked to her, in the hospital wing, she had been remarkably in the moment, calm, sane, and kind of boring. He couldn't remember seeing her on Platform 9 ¾ at all, and wondered, briefly, where she was.

Neville was another disappointment. He had always been a solid presence for Harry, a quiet source of support. Harry had always felt that Neville was almost a touchstone for what his own life could have been, a reminder that Harry was not the only student at Hogwarts with demons in his past. It made him want to fight harder, to keep those demons at bay. Neville had been Harry's greatest success during the months of the D.A., and Harry had begun to feel that he was gaining another strong ally in the fight against Voldemort. But in the days after the six returned from the Ministry, Neville seemed to have retreated back to being that timid, forgetful boy they all remembered from first year. Even now, two months later, he had barely spoken to Harry on the train before racing off somewhere.

And Ginny. Oddly, Harry's thoughts towards Ginny were a lot more muddled. His memories of her from before the Ministry were not nearly as personal as for his other friends. Harry realized that he had always thought of her in relation to someone, or something, else; Ron's little sister, one of the Weasleys, a girl with a crush on him, a girl to be rescued from the Chamber. True, this past year he had begun to see flashes of a personality that finally explained the wary awe her brothers bestowed on her, but his own interactions with Ginny had been rare. Of the five who had gone with Harry to the Ministry, Ginny's attitude and demeanor had changed the least, as far as Harry could tell. But maybe that was because he hadn't particularly noticed her before.

As if reading his thoughts, the compartment door suddenly opened and Ginny herself was there. She grinned at Harry with an easiness that was missing from his other friends. Apparently she hadn't gotten the memo that everyone was supposed to be acting weird, Harry thought wryly to himself.

"Oi! I can only listen to stories about West Ham for so long!" Ginny sighed dramatically and fell onto the seat across from Harry. "Does Dean talk that much about football in your dormitory?"

Harry was taken aback at her casual conversation. "Umm, yeah, when we let him," he managed to stutter out. He was oddly pleased when Ginny laughed. Then she sat up and looked around. "Why are you sitting in here alone? I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

 _What exactly did she think she might be interrupting?_ Harry thought to himself, a flash of the familiar irritation stopping him for a second. But he was able to shake it off.

"Ron and Hermione had to go to a prefects' meeting. I'm just waiting for them to come back."

"Right," said Ginny. Then she frowned. "Harry . . . do you think that they're acting, I don't know, a bit strange?"

"I think we all are." The admission flew out of Harry's mouth before he could bite it back. _They were supposed to be pretending nothing was wrong._ Ginny stared at him for a minute, and then nodded. "Ron's scared, Hermione's . . . well, she's not all hyper-organized and thoughtful. What are you?"

Harry was shocked at how perceptive Ginny was about what was going on. He didn't think she paid that much attention to him anymore. "How did you . . ."

Ginny raised her eyebrows as if she could see his thoughts. "It's not hard to see, Harry. We lived together all summer at the Burrow, remember? Not to mention all that time at Grimmauld Place last year."

And Harry suddenly did remember. As if looking at a series of photographs, he saw the past months fly by in his mind: cleaning the living room at Grimmauld Place, lurking outside Order meetings with Extendable Ears, waiting for news of her father, being yelled at by her, eating together at the Burrow. Ginny had always been there, but Harry hadn't really paid attention. And Quidditch – he had been surprised to hear that Ginny had taken his place after his ban last year, but after seeing her play, he wondered why she had not joined the team earlier.

The sound of Ginny clearing her throat forced Harry from his thoughts. She was still looking at him. Actually, she was still waiting for him to answer her question, Harry realized.

"Umm, you asked . . .?" Harry remembered, but he wanted to be sure.

"I asked what your problem is," replied Ginny. "And don't try to tell me you don't have a problem too." Her eyes softened. "Is it about Sirius?"

Ginny was the first to ask about his godfather. Harry would ordinarily have expected Hermione to be the one to try to delve into his feelings, but with the way Hermione was around him these days, it was as if she barely remembered that Sirius had died. Harry felt a flash of annoyance even thinking about Hermione trying to make him feel better. Or was it because she wasn't here, trying to figure him out?

 _Why was he annoyed? Hermione used to be good at explaining feelings. Look at what she understood about Cho. Look how she used to yell at me and Ron when we were acting like arses to each other._

Harry wasn't sure how he felt, having Ginny ask the questions he would have expected from Hermione. He gave the answer he thought she would want to hear.

"Some of it is, I guess. I mean, it's just unfair that we got so little time together." Dumbledore had said something similar to Harry the night they arrived at the Burrow after seeing Slughorn. At the time, Harry had been working to ignore everything that had happened at the end of the school year; he had given Dumbledore a pat reply that he wasn't going to hide himself away just because of what had happened, that Sirius wouldn't have wanted that. Dumbledore had been pleased at Harry's response; Harry had been surprised at how easily the lie had rolled off his tongue. Then he had gone and hidden himself away for most of the summer anyway.

Ginny looked at Harry closely, as if she knew he wasn't being honest. "And you feel incredibly guilty." She was matter-a-fact.

"Wouldn't you?" Harry knew he was being rude, but he still wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation.

"Of course I would," said Ginny. "And sad, angry, cheated, lonely, you name it. But there's more, isn't there? Something that has to do with how weird Ron and Hermione are being and how you don't feel like yourself."

HPHPHPHP

Ginny watched as Harry's face betrayed more than he probably wanted about how accurate her assessment was. Of course, she was at an advantage here, interpreting his feelings. She had been watching him surreptitiously for almost five years. Harry said a lot more with his face and his actions than he ever said with words, a fact most people didn't realize. She knew he shared more with Ron and Hermione than anyone else, but usually only after stewing on his own for a while. And she knew that Harry was nearly as jealous of Ron's life as Ron thought he was of Harry's, with his fame and attention.

Harry was quiet, staring down at the floor. Then he nodded, as if making a decision. He looked at Ginny.

"It's like, we can't be together. Not comfortably. Not like we used to be. And I don't know why. You're right. Ron is scared of something – I've never seen him like this, except for that time we got caught in a den of giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest. At least he had a good reason that time."

Ginny nodded. She had seen the uncharacteristically frightened look on her brother's face a lot this summer. Usually when conversation had skirted too close to the Department of Mysteries or speculation about Voldemort.

"And Hermione . . ." she prompted.

"Hermione can't seem to focus on anything like she used to. She doesn't want to discuss . . . I mean, neither of them believe. . ." Harry stopped, and Ginny knew he didn't want to admit how much it bothered him that his best friends didn't seem to trust him all of a sudden.

"Believe what?" Now that she had him talking, Ginny was determined to find out as much as she could.

"Believe that Draco Malfoy has taken his father's place as a Death Eater and is involved in something dangerous." Harry said the last in a rush, as if he didn't expect her to buy his theory any more than Ron or Hermione had.

Ginny frowned. "He's only sixteen," she said slowly. "Do you really think . . ."

"Yes, I do really think he is," said Harry firmly. "We followed him into Knockturn Alley last week and he threatened a shopkeeper there by showing him something. Something that really scared the man. I think it was the Dark Mark on his arm. And he's planning something using a dark item from the store. We just couldn't see what it was."

"And my brother doesn't believe you," said Ginny. It wasn't a question.

"No," said Harry shortly. "Neither does Hermione. They don't want to talk about it at all, actually."

Ginny thought to herself before she spoke, making sure she believed her words and wasn't just placating Harry. "I suppose it's possible," she said slowly. "Lucius Malfoy is certainly a nasty piece of work. I wouldn't put it past him to sign his son up to be a Death Eater at the earliest possible moment. She had not forgiven the man for slipping her Tom Riddle's diary four years earlier. She looked at Harry. "Maybe we should try to keep a closer eye on Draco."

Harry let out a breath. "Yes – that's all I wanted to do. It's not like I'm planning on marching up to him and accusing him of anything."

"Okay then," said Ginny. "I'm in. Let me know how I can help."

Harry grinned at her and it was as if the entire atmosphere in the compartment changed. Ginny smiled back. It was amazing how his mood lightened with the promise of help, someone on his side. And somehow, she knew that Harry was right. A year ago, she might have agreed with him as an excuse to get him to notice her. Now she was oddly proud to think that she was supporting him because it felt right.

Harry was just saying something about using the Marauder's Map to keep an eye on Draco when the compartment door opened and Ron and Hermione came in. They were both laughing about something that had happened at the prefect's meeting.

"And the look on Ernie's face when you did the charm better than him!" Ron was saying, giving Hermione a high five. "Just priceless!"

Ginny saw Harry frown and read his thoughts as easily as if he spoke aloud: Ron and Hermione seemed to be behaving a lot more normally all of a sudden, and it bugged him. Just then Ron caught sight of Harry's face and the light seemed to go out of his own. He looked back and forth between Harry and Ginny as he sat down.

"What?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. "Nothing," he mumbled.

Anyone could see that Ron did not want to know what was going on. Ginny was not really surprised that Harry told him anyway.

"Ginny agrees we should keep an eye on Malfoy. "She's going to help."

Ron drew in a breath. "I don't think that's a good idea. It could be dangerous."

Harry looked mad now. "I thought you said I was overreacting!"

Ron still looked scared. "Every time you get suspicious about something, someone ends up hurt. Or . . ." his voice trailed off.

"Or dead? Is that what you were going to say?" Ginny jumped as Harry yelled at her brother, his fury back again. "People around me die, right? Well, if you haven't noticed, a lot of people around me live, too. And I've managed to survive Voldemort what is it, four times now? Five? And I'm still here fighting, and I'm going to keep fighting, even if I have to do it alone. Which I'm beginning to think is the best way anyway." He took several deep breaths, his fists clenched.

Ginny watched Harry struggle for control, torn between whether she should try to calm him or instead support her brother somehow. Instead, she kept quiet. It was clear to her that Harry's anger had a life of its own, although he was trying to suppress it. Ron's fear was out of his control too, for that matter. She wondered briefly about Hermione, but before she could consider the other girl, Ron spoke.

"Maybe we should just go," said Ron, as if reading Harry's thoughts, or at least, his body language.

"Yeah," Harry replied, not looking up.

Hermione was uncharacteristically silent during this exchange. Well, it would have been uncharacteristic before this summer. Now she just stared out the window and ignored the fact that her two closest friends were fighting with each other. She looked up when Ron touched her arm, smiled at Harry, and said goodbye before leaving the compartment again.

Ginny sighed. She needed to think. And Harry needed to be alone before he could antagonize anyone else. "I think I should leave too," she said.

Harry nodded grimly. "Dean and his West Ham stories must be a hell of a lot more pleasant than me."

Ginny just gave Harry a look as she paused at the door to the compartment. "We _will_ figure out what is going on, though. And I don't just mean with Malfoy." She touched his arm. "And I'll try to talk to Ron."

And then she was gone, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.


	2. Interludes: Draco and Dumbledore

**Interlude: Draco**

He would never let his followers know, but the debacle at the Department of Mysteries had ended up far more beneficial than he ever could have guessed. It was extremely lucky, although he didn't believe in luck. Fortuitous, even. Had things gone as planned . . .

He allowed himself a brief, invisible pause. But no use going there now. Everything was fine. He did not have the prophecy, but instead, knowledge a thousand times more valuable had fallen into his lap. And he knew what to do with it, how to fix the tragedy of years past, even as the boy remained completely in the dark.

Lord Voldemort paced calmly across the grassy knoll, seemingly oblivious to the terrified figure kneeling before him or the cloaked observers gathered in groups further back. Several were almost to the trees at the edge of the forest, although what forest it was, no one but the Dark Lord knew. After a year of laying low, they had gathered together at his order, those Death Eaters who were not currently locked in Azkaban after their spectacular failure at the Department of Mysteries, to hear him speak, or plan, or mete out justice. The air was heavy with anticipation.

Finally Voldemort stopped pacing. "Stand up, Draco," he commanded.

As the boy rose, shaking, to his feet, a quiet sob rose from one of the nearby cloaked figures. Draco's head jerked in that direction for a moment, but he managed to stay facing his master, although he could not look him in the eye.

"Your father has disappointed me, Draco," said Voldemort. I entrusted him with a task more important than almost any other, and he failed me."

"Yes, my Lord," stuttered Draco, as another choking sob pierced the air.

"And now," continued Voldemort, as if no one had spoken, "he is in Azkaban, and no use to me just at the time when there is more work to be done."

"My Lord, I'm sure he'll be out of Azkaban soon, the Dementors . . ." began Draco, still not looking Voldemort in the eye.

"Ahh, but Lucius is not right for this job, I think," said Voldemort smoothly. "I need someone . . . closer to the situation. Someone that no one would suspect of working for me . . . yet."

Draco finally raised his terrified gray eyes and looked into Voldemort's red ones. His voice sounded as if he was biting back tremors of fear, but it didn't waiver as he quietly responded. "I only live to serve you, Master."

"I hope the sins of the father are not passed down to the son," said Voldemort then. "I need you, Draco, and you cannot fail me as your father did."

"Of course not, my Lord," said Draco, his eyes again staring at the ground.

"Very good. You show the proper respect and willingness to serve. If you succeed, Draco, no, _when_ you succeed, you will be rewarded. Now, your left arm, if you please."

Draco's eyes flashed to the side, settling on a cloaked figure whose rapid breath was now the only outward sign of her anguish. He took a deep breath and pushed back the sleeve of his robe, holding it up toward Voldemort.

The Dark Lord considered the silently crying women at the edge of the circle. "You should be proud, Narcissa," he said quietly. "For your boy may yet bring power and glory to your family."

"He's only sixteen!" Narcissa wailed. She seemed about to say more until the figure next to her grabbed her arm, hissing "Hush!"

Voldemort was not perturbed by the outburst. He almost chuckled at the women, an eerie, dangerous sound. "Sixteen . . . sixteen . . . he mused. Quite a good age for me, if I remember. Sons . . . surpassing their fathers . . . Yes, there is much power at sixteen, and your son is ready to show it."

He grasped Draco's arm roughly, lifting it higher. Taking his own hand, he rubbed his long, white fingers over Draco's skin. To those watching, it looked almost like a gentle caress. But most winced in memory as the boy gasped with pain. Back and forth and back again he rubbed his hand over Draco's arm, which twitched as if it had a life of its own. Slowly, a dark shape began to appear on the skin. It grew darker and more defined while Draco bit his lip until blood appeared to keep himself from crying out. He was close to fainting when the image was finally set, gleaming black, the scent of burnt flesh in the air.

"Thank you, my Lord," he gasped before backing away to the edge of the circle and vomiting onto the grass. His mother moved toward him, but he composed himself and held up his hands to stop her.

"I'm fine," he spat, "and ready to serve."

"Very good, Draco," said Voldemort. "I knew you would make the right choice."

 **Interlude: Dumbledore**

Harry had not seemed nearly as happy to see him as Dumbledore had expected. Usually Harry was more than eager to escape his relatives as early as possible each summer, but this time, he seemed almost indifferent to the chance to leave after only two weeks in Privet Drive. Dumbledore had been prepared for a Harry that was angry, or guilty, or in mourning over the recent loss of his godfather, but instead he found a boy who was quiet, even a bit wary, to see the Headmaster, particularly after he noticed the older man's blackened and withered hand. He could tell that Harry was curious about it, but held back his questions, looking at the hand out of the corner of his eye whenever he thought Dumbledore was not watching.

Still, Dumbledore assumed that Harry's unusual reaction was related to the recent tragedy at the Department of Mysteries. There would be time to delve into that later, the headmaster decided; for now, better to keep Harry's mind occupied with the task of persuading Horace Slughorn to come out of retirement.

Harry was willing enough to go with the Headmaster to meet his former colleague; the boy proved to be as useful as Dumbledore had hoped in convincing Slughorn to come back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had excused himself and then listened at the door as the two others talked. He was rather surprised to hear the almost reverential tone Harry used to describe him and his powers; it obviously made an impression on Slughorn, who seemed to consider a bit more seriously how much safer he might be teaching at the school. Dumbledore know that Harry had shown him great loyalty in the past, particularly in the Chamber of Secrets, but had never imagined the boy describing him as the "most powerful and awe-inspiring magical force of our time." His effusiveness was particularly surprising given the rather bland responses he had given to Dumbledore's questions and comments as they had journeyed to Slughorn's house.

That indifferent air returned as the two apparated back to the Burrow. On a whim, the Headmaster pulled Harry into the Weasley's broom shed before alerting Molly to their presence. If the boy was suffering from guilt or grief over the loss of his godfather, Dumbledore wanted him to gently remind him that he was not alone in his loss.

Harry surprised him, though. He accepted Dumbledore's condolences and agreed immediately with him that Sirius would not have wanted him to shut himself away from everyone. He would lean on his friends, tell them the entire content of the Prophecy, continue the fight.

A half-hour later, Dumbledore left the Burrow feeling pleased that Harry was recovering from his loss so well. There was much Harry still needed to learn, and now, only a limited time for Dumbledore to impart it. The Headmaster was certain that by the time school started in September, the boy would be more than ready to focus on the next steps in his journey towards the defeat of Voldemort.


	3. The Nature of Fear

**The Nature of Fear**

Harry considered skipping the Welcoming Feast altogether, but he had been sulking too much on the train to eat, and his stomach was growling. _And it wasn't like he wasn't used to being stared at_ , he thought irritably, as he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. The chatter of voices inside got suddenly louder and then just as suddenly hushed as the eating students caught sight of him.

A second later, the noise started up again, but this time, Harry could detect the questions and curiosity in the conversations that swirled around him as he walked to the Gryffindor table.

 _Well, what did he expect, coming in late to the Feast and covered in blood?_

It had been a really stupid idea anyway, sneaking into the Slytherin-filled compartment behind Blaise when he walked back from the loo. Malfoy was going to laugh about it for weeks. Even though it certainly had sounded like he had become a Death Eater – what else could he mean, telling his friends that he had something more important to do than school? And talking about the Dark Lord as if they were practically best mates. It made Harry sick. But with the way Draco had been bragging, it would probably be around the entire school soon anyway; Harry could have found out without getting his nose smashed.

And of course, running into Snape first thing, made the whole experience that much worse. Now he had a detention with the man on top of everything else.

He was still seething as he reached the Gryffindor table, automatically plopping into the empty seat next to Ron. Ron flinched and stared at the blood on Harry's face with wide eyes.

"What happened to you?" Ron asked, though it was clear he really didn't want to hear the answer.

"Malfoy petrified me and then stepped on my face," said Harry, a lot more calmly than he felt. It was strangely easy to control his temper when he was goading Ron. "Because I eavesdropped on him on the train. He was telling Parkinson and everyone that he has a vitally important job to do for Voldemort. Something that is going to earn him a lot of power and respect."

Sitting here next to Ron, it was easier to imagine that Draco had in fact been bragging about becoming a Death Eater and working on a project for Voldemort himself. It made him feel good, to know he was right. Powerful even, that he understood something Ron didn't.

Ron shrugged, obviously trying to find another angle. "I don't know. Maybe he was just, you know, showing off for Pansy."

Harry ignored him and looked at Hermione.

"Don't you agree with me, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up, startled. She hadn't been paying attention. "Oh, umm, I don't know." She glanced between Harry and Ron. "Uhh, you mean about Malfoy?"

Harry groaned with exasperation. "Yes, of course I mean about Malfoy. There's no question. He's up to something with the Death Eaters. Something big. I can't believe you don't see it!"

"Harry," Ginny placed a warning hand on his arm as if she could tell he was about to lose it again. Which he was.

But just then, a small girl Harry had never seen before was at his elbow, a piece of rolled parchment in her hand. She looked terrified to interrupt.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this, Harry," she said, shoving it at him before hastily walking away.

Harry took the parchment and his anger faded away, leaving him feeling kind of like an idiot. He shook his head in confusion and glanced up at the staff table. Dumbledore was looking down at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

" _Could he tell what was going on?_ Harry wouldn't put it past the Headmaster to put a calming charm or something on the parchment. He opened it, half expecting the message inside to tell him to take a deep breath. Instead, in Dumbledore's distinctive slanted writing, Harry learned that his private lessons were to begin the next evening. _Well, at least that postpones the detention with Snape._

Ron looked positively frantic at the news. "Do you think he's going to teach you really advanced dark spells?"

"Maybe," said Harry. He looked at Ginny. "Hey, do you think I should tell Dumbledore what we suspect about Malfoy?"

"Not so loud!" Ron hissed, looking around. "Ginny, I really think you need to stay out of this."

For all the years Ron had been Ginny's brother, he obviously had not learned that the best way to insure that Ginny did something was to forbid her from doing it. Her eyes narrowed.

"I can take care of myself, thank you, Ronald," she said coldly. But she almost immediately softened when she saw the look of abject fear on his face. "Sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to be so harsh." She put her hand on his and squeezed.

"I . . . I just don't want you to get hurt," he mumbled, gathering up his things.

Ginny sighed and got up after him. "I think we need to talk," she said to Harry. She touched his arm briefly as she left the table. "Come find me in the common room later?"

Harry had been seething inside, watching Ginny coddle Ron, but her last statement relaxed him just enough to keep from making another snide comment to his best friend. As soon as Ron and Ginny, followed by Hermione, had left, Harry found that his rage was gone too. He looked around the table at the other Gryffindors; all but a few of the faces were unfamiliar. Dean and Seamus were bent over something that looked like a Quidditch magazine. Lavender and Parvati were sitting together, of course, but Lavender was staring at Ron's retreating back with a silly look on her face while Parvati giggled and whispered in her ear. Harry ignored them. _But_ w _here was Neville?_

Finally Harry saw him, down at the other end of the table. Harry got up, thinking that maybe he would say hello, but as he got closer, he got the distinct impression that Neville was looking at anything but Harry.

 _Was Neville actually ignoring him? Neville, who had been one of Harry's strongest supporters this past year?_

But there was no doubt about it. Neville was staring stiffly down at his plate, eating quickly, a tight look on his face. Seeing Neville like that made the vague unease that Harry had been trying to ignore all summer flare up inside him. There was anger there too, for a moment, but even more than that, a strong sense that something was just not right.

Suddenly Harry really wanted to be alone to think. Maybe he could go for a fly to clear his head. Spinning away from Neville, Harry strode out of the Great Hall, not noticing that the other boy's stiff shoulders relaxed as he turned to peer at Harry's retreating back.

The first thing Harry saw in the Entrance Hall was Ginny and Ron, sitting together on a bench, talking. They both looked up as he strode towards the front doors, Ron's face immediately scared, Ginny's, a warning.

The pull towards his broom and the empty skies was stronger than the desire to antagonize Ron. Harry nodded at them and kept going out the door, hoping that a hard flight around the pitch, two, three, or a dozen times might help him make better sense of everything that was going on.

HPHPHPHPHP

Ron let out a breath as he watched Harry walk by without a word, and the weird, scared feeling that had suddenly taken over his thoughts eased again. He turned back towards his sister.

"Did you see his face, Ginny? Harry looked really angry. I just don't think you should hang around with him right now. It doesn't feel safe."

Ginny bit her lip. Whatever was going on between Harry, Ron and Hermione was more serious than she thought. In her opinion, Harry had looked unhappy, but not angry as he had passed them; Ron clearly saw something different. She considered her talk with Harry on the train. He had noticed Ron's fear and Hermione's flakiness, but now that she thought about it, he had not mentioned exactly how he was feeling, or admit that his own explosive anger was not normal. All he had said was that everything and everyone was "weird."

"Ron," she began, "what exactly has been going on with you and Harry?"

Ron stared at her. "Haven't you noticed, Ginny? He's gone completely mental. He's obsessed with Malfoy and the Death Eaters, it's almost like the Department of Mysteries wasn't enough and he really wants to get us all killed. And he's furious with anyone who disagrees with him. I thought he was going to hit me once or twice on the train." Ron grabbed her hand.

"Ginny, I don't feel safe around Harry anymore. There's something dangerous about him. And trust me, I've been in dangerous situations before, but I've never felt like this."

"Like what, Ron?"

"Like something terrible will happen if we do what he says. Like he's almost as bad as . . . as . . . Y _ou Know Who."_

Ginny stared at her brother. "You don't think Harry is on the same side as Voldemort?" she asked, ignoring Ron's flinch at the name.

"No, not at all," said Ron hastily. "But he's acting almost as bad right now, willing to do anything to uncover the Death Eaters and find Voldemort. I really think he's gonna totally lose it, one of these days. And if we're close by, we're going to get hurt."

"Is that why you've been acting so scared whenever he's around?" Ginny asked. "Because you don't want to get hurt?"

Ron looked at her. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I don't think I'm scared. I just think I'm being cautious. Everything he says sounds so . . . dangerous or something." He shivered. "His obsession with Malfoy is getting out of hand. I can't believe he snuck into a train compartment full of Slytherins! He could have gotten himself killed!" He looked sharply at Ginny. "That's why I don't want you hanging around with Harry or spying on Malfoy."

Ginny almost snorted at her brother, until she caught sight of his face. He was totally serious. She knew he was overreacting, but he obviously had no idea how ridiculous he sounded. Just as Harry didn't seem to realize how odd his anger was. He seemed to think that it was quite justified, that only Ron and Hermione and the others were being unreasonable. Ginny wondered briefly why she seemed immune to the darkness that had overtaken her friends; then she smiled wryly to herself. Maybe she was acting just as strangely, but, like everyone else, didn't realize it. She sighed and turned back to Ron.

"Ron, I don't think Harry is involved in anything more dangerous than any of the other crazy things you have all dealt with in the past." Ron opened his mouth to disagree and she held up her hand. "Really, I don't. I mean, think about it. You weren't too scared to help him save the Sorcerer's Stone, or follow him into the Chamber of Secrets, were you?"

"That was different," Ron mumbled. "You were down there. What choice did I have?"

"Well, what about when you agreed to go with him to rescue Sirius? You insisted on going along, and I don't remember you being scared at all."

"I should have been," retorted Ron. "I mean, look where it got us."

"Exactly," agreed Ginny. "It got us all in trouble. But not because Harry is dangerous. We all wanted to help because it was the right thing to do." She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "I do think something is wrong. With all of us." She looked at her brother, willing him to understand.

"I think that we all got really hurt in the Department of Ministries." Ron flinched again at her mention of the place. "Maybe it was a combination of all the Death Eaters' spells that hit us," she went on, trying to ignore the rising look of panic on her brother's face. "Or maybe something happened when all those prophecies smashed around us or the brains got you, or something else. I don't know what, but it's affected you, and Hermione, and Luna and Neville, and especially Harry."

Ron frowned. "What about you?"

"Me too, probably," admitted Ginny. "I'm just not as sure how. But I can see it, you're terrified of things that never would have scared you before. And Hermione, did you even seen her open a book this summer?"

Ron got defensive. "I think she read a bunch when she was home with her parents."

"But not around us, or especially Harry, right?"

Ron was quiet, and Ginny watched him for a second. She didn't want to push him any farther right now, but hopefully he would think about what she had told him. She also wanted to have a chance to talk to Harry too. She was glad he was going to see Professor Dumbledore tomorrow night; hopefully the Headmaster would see the same things she did, and have an idea about what was going on. Ginny was afraid. She didn't think she was acting any differently, but what if this strange . . . whatever it was, was just slower to hit her? If she lost herself as much as Harry and Ron and Hermione seemed to have, then no one would be around to help bring them all back.

Ginny was just considering whether she should go to the Headmaster herself when the doors to the Great Hall opened and Seamus and Dean came out laughing. Dean's eyes lit up when he saw Ginny, and he sprinted across the hall to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet for a kiss.

"Hey, Gin! I wondered where you had disappeared. Fancy a walk before curfew?"

Ginny forced herself to smile back at her boyfriend. At least here was someone who was acting normally, and who seemed to think there was nothing wrong with her either. After all her years of pining over Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Dean was a relief. She never got shy or embarrassed around him, and he was decent to her, and could be quite funny. She let Dean lead her towards the door, but not before she turned back to her brother first. His face had darkened at the sight of Dean kissing Ginny, but at least that was an emotion Ginny could understand. She would kiss her boyfriend in front of her brother every day if it meant she could get a reasonable reaction out of him.

"We'll see you two later in the common room," she called to her brother and Seamus as Dean led her out onto the lawn.

As they walked around the grounds, talking about their summer, stopping to kiss every few minutes or so, Ginny felt herself relax a little bit. Some of the stress of the past few hours drained away as she listened to Dean talk about his plans to try out for the Quidditch team that year (especially after he learned she was trying out again too), even though her mind was only half on what he was saying. Half seemed to be enough, though, and she let herself enjoy the walk for what it was. So successful was she at locking away the problems with Harry and her brother that she did not even notice, as she and Dean walked by the Quidditch pitch that they were not totally alone.

Dean took that moment to draw her close for another kiss, this one more lingering and urgent than the earlier ones they had shared. As Ginny closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around boyfriend's back, she missed the streak of crimson that flashed across the sky overhead. She did not see Harry's hands as they tightened around his broom until the knuckles were white, or hear the growl in his throat as he saw the couple locked together below him. By the time Ginny and Dean broke apart, the sky was darkening, and completely empty.


	4. Fumes and Flashbacks

**Fumes and Flashbacks**

The look on Harry's face as he sat in the Common Room was enough to keep all the other Gryffindors far away, even though it meant giving up the chance to sit in one of the coveted comfy seats by the fire. Ron had given Harry one scared look when he stomped through the portrait hole clutching his Firebolt and then retreated to a far table with Hermione. He actually looked relieved when they were soon joined by Lavender and Parvati, the latter two taking up the remaining seats at the table. Harry suspected that Ron wanted to avoid talking to him at all costs.

Harry couldn't even say exactly why he was so mad. _So Ginny was kissing Dean, so what? They're going out. That's what people do when they go out._ The fact that it actually bothered him upset him even more. He huffed for a while, glaring at anyone who caught his eye.

 _It's just cause she said she'd meet me in the Common Room tonight. We have a lot to talk about. Stuff that's more important than a stupid snog out on the grounds._

Harry looked around the Common Room yet again, but Ginny did not appear. Instead, he caught Ron's eye for a long moment as he looked up from what looked like a conversation with Lavender. Hermione was sitting next to him, looking rather annoyed. As Harry watched she actually picked up a book and began flipping rapidly through it, reading in the intense way she often did when she was annoyed with Ron and Harry or upset about something. It was the most emotion Harry had seen her show in months.

For the first time in months, Harry did not feel the stabbing anger that usually accompanied anything having to do with Ron or Hermione. Instead, his mind was suddenly sad and rather confused when he considered his friends across the room. Harry looked away first, trying to cheer himself with the thought that Ron would be just as upset as he was if he knew where Ginny was.

Harry was interrupted in his thoughts by two boys he vaguely recognized as being third years, or maybe fourth, who apparently were taking advantage of the milder look on Harry's face to approach.

"Hey, umm, Harry? You're Quidditch captain this year, right mate? The smaller of the two boys was speaking.

Harry tore his eyes away from the portrait hole, where they had landed yet again, and forced himself to focus on the figure in front of him. "Uhh, yeah, I am."

"We were wondering, umm, when you were going to hold Quidditch tryouts," said the other boy, a little taller than the first, but just as mousy.

Harry mentally groaned to himself. On top of everything else going on, he still had to select a new Quidditch team. Katie Bell was the only returning player from Harry's former team, unless you counted Ginny and Ron, who played last year after Harry and the Weasley twins were banned. Ordinarily he would have thought Ron would make a decent Keeper, but in his current emotional state, Harry wasn't so sure. He needed two Beaters and two Chasers as well; he only hoped that there was some talent to choose from.

Harry was torn from his thoughts about when to set tryouts when the portrait hole opened and Ginny finally stepped through. Unfortunately, Dean was right behind her, gripping her hand and laughing at something she had said. Harry's mood blackened suddenly, and he missed seeing Ginny's eyes sweep the room, settling on him and the fact that he was sitting apart from her brother and Hermione. He also missed her saying something quietly to Dean and gesturing towards Harry, but looked up just in time to see the other boy plant a light kiss on Ginny's lips before walking off to join Seamus and several fifth years in a game of Exploding Snap.

Harry tensed in his seat as he watched Ginny approach him. He thought she had a rather dreamy look on his face from her walk with Dean and it angered him to think that she was not going to be able to focus on more important things, like Malfoy.

"Well, it's about time," Harry said rudely as she sat down.

Ginny looked surprised. "What do you mean? It's not even curfew yet."

Harry felt defensive. "You said you'd come talk to me after you were finished with Ron. He's been back for almost an hour."

"Sorry, Harry," said Ginny, seeming a bit wary at his outburst. "But I haven't seen Dean all summer and, you know. . ." she trailed off, a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

"I would have thought that figuring out what Malfoy is doing is more important," said Harry petulantly. On some level, he knew he shouldn't antagonize Ginny; she was the only person who believed his theory, but he couldn't help himself. Unfortunately, unlike her brother right now, Ginny had no qualms about putting Harry back in his place.

"Honestly, Harry," she said, exasperated, "I know it's important. And, if you haven't noticed, I'm here now, even though I could be . . ." she trailed off, another blush rising on her face, and Harry did not miss her glance over to Dean again.

"If you want to sit with your boyfriend so bad, then just go," said Harry sullenly. "I don't need you. I'll figure out how to keep an eye on Malfoy myself."

"Actually, Harry, I think I'm just going to go up to my room. I had a lot to talk to you about, but you're being ridiculous right now, and I don't really feel like listening to you yell at me."

And just like that, Ginny got up and marched over to the stairs, disappearing up to the girls' dormitory.

Harry sat there in shock. He was angry, but whether at Ginny or himself, he couldn't be sure. He watched Dean glance at Ginny as she walked past without breaking her stride. This made him feel better for a moment, until Dean looked over with a grin.

"What'd you say to her, Potter? Even I can't piss her off that fast."

Harry clenched his hands in his lap, forcing himself not to take the bait. Instead, he just glared at Dean and then went back to looking at the fire. It helped that even from across the room, Harry could see Ron's equally stony face, staring at Dean. _At least he and Ron were on the same side._ A second later though, he was annoyed with himself. _Of course, this was all his own fault. Why did he have to go and give Ginny a hard time about hanging out with her boyfriend?_ Harry considered just giving up for the night and going to bed, but before he could act, he saw a flash of red reappear at the bottom of the stairs.

HPHPHPHPHP

Although Ginny had willed herself to walk away from Harry as coolly as possible, inside she was panicking.

 _So this is it. He's finally treating me like Ron and Hermione._

She stopped at the door to her room, thinking.

 _I wonder what my own "thing" is, then._ She didn't feel particularly scared, and she didn't think she was acting all unfocused like Hermione. So what had set Harry off? Ginny considered what had happened. Harry had been mad that she wasn't there to help him figure out the thing with Malfoy, and he seemed annoyed that she had been with Dean instead.

 _It must be because I promised to meet with him, she decided. And he's like Ron, he doesn't like to think of me dating anyone. Overprotective gits._

Ginny sighed. She needed to go back. If she couldn't figure out exactly how _she_ might be acting weird, Harry probably didn't see himself clearly either. They needed to discuss it. And, she admitted to herself, she wanted to talk to him about Draco. Although her brother and Hermione had dismissed Harry's concerns, Ginny couldn't help but agree with Harry that something was up. His hunches were often right. She shivered. _After all, he did figure out enough to rescue me from the Chamber._ _Time to put on my big-girl pants and go face him again._

Turning abruptly around, Ginny went back downstairs. She half-expected Harry to have gone, but he was still there, sitting in his same seat by the fire. He looked up as soon as she appeared at the bottom of the steps, and even from that distance, she could see the look on Harry's face. Annoyed, yes, but also a bit sheepish.

It was the sheepishness that gave her the courage to walk back over to him. As she walked by, Dean looked up at her with a hopeful look on his face, but she subtly shook her head, hoping he'd get the message. Instead, he glanced over to where Harry was sitting and yelled out, "Hey Potter, watch out! Looks like Ginny's back for round two!"

Ginny groaned. _That would certainly not help._ She saw Harry's face turn stony, but relax when he saw her glare back at Dean and continue on to where he was sitting. Perching on the chair across from him, she tried to ignore everyone else in the room.

Harry continued to just sit there, an expectant look on his face. _What, was he waiting for her to apologize?_ Ginny was about to say something to that effect when Harry took a deep breath.

"Sorry about earlier," he mumbled. "Thanks for coming back."

Ginny relaxed. For a second she had thought that this next discussion was going to end before it began, because there was no way she was going to say she was sorry for something that was not her fault. "Don't let it happen again," she said. "As I told you before, you don't want to antagonize the one person here who seems to believe you."

Harry looked concerned. "You _do_ believe me, don't you? I mean, you're not just, I don't know, _humoring_ me or something?" The look on his face spoke volumes for Ginny.

 _He thinks I'm just trying to make him feel better after everything that happened last Spring. He not sure I'm really on his side._

She smiled. She would never admit it to anyone, but she loved seeing the vulnerable side of Harry. He showed it to almost no one, at least not deliberately. She gave him what she hoped was a truly heartfelt expression.

"I do believe you, Harry. And I'm going to help any way I can. But first, I think there's something else that we really need to talk about."

Ginny took a deep breath. She needed to explain to Harry that he was acting just as oddly as Ron and Hermione and Neville, and herself too, she acknowledged. But she had to be delicate about it. Harry was such a live wire right now, she didn't want to set him off again. And she was still not certain exactly how this "problem" might be messing her up too. She hoped she didn't make things worse between everyone.

"Harry," Ginny began cautiously. He didn't say anything back, and didn't seem to be waiting to explode, so she felt a little better.

"You told me on the train today that you see something weird going on with Ron and Hermione and Neville."

"And Luna," Harry added. "She's being way too normal."

Ginny ignored that. "And me? Do you think things are weird with me?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think so, at least, not that I can tell."

Ginny relaxed a fraction, but then Harry continued.

"I mean, we never really hung out much before, so I wouldn't know if you were being different, you know?" He smirked suddenly. "Unless finally being able to talk to me without blushing is what you mean by 'weird'".

Ginny did blush then, but managed to keep her voice light. "Well, a girl's got to give up on her silly schoolgirl crushes some time, right Potter?"

Harry frowned. "Uhh, right," he said.

"Right," repeated Ginny. Things had suddenly gotten tense again, and she wasn't sure why. She plunged on anyway. "Umm, now, don't get mad, Harry, but we're not the only ones acting weird." She looked him straight in the eye. "You are too."

Harry looked as though he had been punched in the gut. Then his entire expression closed off as fully as if he had shut a door in Ginny's face. "What do you mean?" he asked without expression.

There was no turning back now. "I mean," said Ginny, "that you are much, much angrier at everyone and everything than you usually are. And you usually don't have a good reason. I know last year you were upset that everyone was keeping information from you, and that made sense. But now it seems like we can't look at you without fearing you'll bite our heads off." Ginny had slipped into the plural without even realizing it. Harry was still staring at her, not looking like he was about to open his mouth. She went on.

"Or else you close yourself off and get away from everyone. I watched you all summer. You were either furious at Ron and Hermione or hiding away from everyone and sulking or something. And the worst part is, you don't even see it. Just like Ron doesn't see that he's become afraid of his own shadow and Hermione can't focus on a thought for more than a couple minutes at a time. It's strange, Harry, and I don't know what it means."

Ginny took another deep breath and waited, fully expecting an explosion.

"Are you done?" Harry's voice was still flat, his face stony."

"Yeah, that's all. What do you think?" Ginny was still a bit tense, but at least Harry wasn't yelling at her.

"What do I think? I think we need to focus on what Malfoy is up to. Isn't that why you came over here? To help?" Harry looked annoyed.

"And I'm going to," said Ginny, perhaps more sharply than necessary. "But what do you think about the fact that you have been exploding at everyone in reach for no reason?"

Harry glared at her. "I don't really know what you're talking about," he finally said. "I'm only mad because everyone is acting totally mental. If they'd be normal, I would too."

"Hmph," said Ginny. "I think you're as blind as the rest of them. There is something that is making you all crazy."

"Is this why you agreed to help me? So you could sit here and accuse me of being mental? Cause I don't need this Ginny, I really don't."

Harry was getting worked up, Ginny could see it in the way his hands clenched in his lap. She decided to back off, for now. "No, Harry. I'm helping because I think you're right about Malfoy. We'll worry about the other stuff later." She forced a grin on her face and made her voice light. "Like the fact that you're as nuts as the rest of us."

Harry relaxed . "Right then." Then he looked a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. Look, if it makes it better, I'll think about what you said, okay?"

Ginny was amazed. This was the first time she had seen Harry back off so easily from his anger. And he had actually agreed to think about her theory. Part of her wondered if he was just humoring her, but another part hoped that maybe he was getting over whatever it was that was making him act so . . . un-Harryish. Maybe there was hope for Ron and Hermione and Neville and Luna too.

"Okay," she said. That's fair. Now, where's the Marauder's Map? We should start using it to keep an eye on Malfoy, don't you think?"

It was a much more relaxed Harry that entered Slughorn's potions class the next day. He and Ginny had stayed up for a while, talking about Malfoy and what he could be up to. At some point, their discussion had turned to Quidditch, and then at the end, he had told her a little of his journey with Dumbledore to collect Slughorn.

"I can see him as a stuffed armchair," Ginny had said dryly. "He looks like he stuffs himself all the time."

Ron and Hermione had kept their distance the entire night, although Harry had been occasionally distracted by the silly giggles coming from the table. Given the stony look on Hermione's face, he guessed the laughter was not coming from her. Ron's bed hangings had been closed when Harry got to the room, so they didn't have to speak to each other; Neville had appeared to be asleep as well. Harry had ignored Seamus and Dean's teasing him about how he was acting as much the role of big brother as Ron, making up excuses to keep Ginny away from Dean, and climbed into bed himself, feeling a bit more normal than he had the entire summer.

Now looking around the potions room, Harry fought back a smile. Neither Ron nor Hermione was here yet, and although he had no idea where Hermione had gone after bolting down her breakfast, Harry had not missed the fact that Ron never made it to the meal. He had still been asleep when Harry left their room this morning, his sleeping figure and his bed both covered with shoes, balled up socks, and the odd ink bottle his roommates had thrown at him during the night. Ron had had some very _vivid_ dreams last night. Many of them focusing on someone he called "Lav". Harry sighed. He missed his friend suddenly. All of them, actually.

Harry chose a seat near the front of the room, sniffing the air with interest. A number of cauldrons were bubbling around the room, and one was giving off the most seductive scent Harry had ever smelled. A combination of treacle tart, the woody finish of a broomstick handle, and something flowery he thought he had smelled at the Burrow. It was intoxicating, and Harry let himself sink into the aroma; it only intensified the good feelings he had had since walking into the classroom. Lazily, he remembered he needed to ask Slughorn about borrowing a book and potions ingredients, since he had not planned on taking this class. He made a mental note to order his own book from Flourish and Blotts.

Harry didn't realize that he and the other students already in the room were almost leaning forward in their seats, trying to inhale as much of the wonderful smell as possible. He was barely conscious of the fact that the door had opened again, bringing with it a breeze from the corridor along with more students. He only knew that suddenly he was gagging, the potion in front of him now giving off a terrible odor. If he had been forced to describe it, Harry would have said it reminded him of musty, long disused rooms like the worst of those at Grimmauld Place, burning flesh, and the most bitter of medicines. Hardly breathing, he gathered up his things and moved to the back table, walking so quickly to get away that he didn't even realize he had chosen the same table where Ron and Hermione had just placed their own things.

The moment was more than tense. Harry was about to move again when he noticed that there was really nowhere else to go. One table was taken up by four Slytherins (Malfoy among them, Harry noted with interest), and another with four Ravenclaws. He knew he had to stay here, with Ron and Hermione and Ernie McMillan, so he dropped his bag and sat down as close to the edge of the table as possible.

The terrible smell seemed to permeate the entire room, but Harry was the only one who seemed bothered by it. Everyone else was still sniffing the air appreciatively, and Professor Slughorn's explanation of Amortentia and what it was and what they should be smelling did nothing to calm Harry's unease.

Things only got worse when Slughorn gave him and Ron old potions texts to use until they could order their own. As soon as Harry noted the strangely familiar cramped writing covering most of the instructions on the pages, Ron turned pale and pushed himself as far away from Harry as he could.

"What are you doing?" Ron hissed, when Harry began following the alternative instructions and getting much better results than those in the text.

"I'm making the Daught of Living Death," said Harry, recklessly adding a clockwise stir to his potion after every seventh counter-clockwise one.

"Are you crazy? Following directions someone hand-wrote in a book?"

Harry's potion was now the exact shade of clear violet it was supposed to be. He glared at Ron. "This is completely different. It's just notes from a previous student. And if you haven't noticed, they are pretty good notes as well. What color is your potion?"

Ron had no answer; his potion was sort of a mottled black at this point. Hermione, usually the best in the class at potions, had produced a deep purple liquid that was a step or two behind Harry's. For some reason, she did not seem at all annoyed to have been bested. Harry only saw a flicker of life come to her eyes when Ron poked her and whispered, "Hermione, a little help here?"

Hermione looked annoyed at him. "Figure it out yourself, Ron," she muttered. "Or maybe you can ask Lavender to help you."

Ron blushed crimson and Harry knew that one of his roommates had not been able to keep his mouth shut about their dorm's interrupted sleep last night. He turned back to the potions book, finishing up the mixture with a flourish and ignoring his friends for the rest of the class.

At the end of class, Harry could not help but notice the deeply disappointed look on Draco's face when Harry won the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis. Ron's face was equally easy to read: abject fear.

He was right behind Harry as they walked towards the Charms corridor for their next class and Harry could tell he was biting back what he wanted to say. Finally Harry had had enough. Turning around, he fixed his friend with a steely glare.

"What, Ron?"

Ron still looked terrified, but finally got his words out. "What are you going to do with that potion?"

Harry shrugged, wanting to bait Ron a bit. "I dunno, I thought I'd take some and then sneak into the Slytherin Common Room under my invisibility cloak." He paused, letting that sink in. "And I think Ginny would fit under it too."

The look of horror in Ron's eyes gave Harry a brief flash of pleasure as he watched the other boy sputter and gasp.

"You . . . you wouldn't. You can't. Don't you _dare_ put her in danger like that!" Ron seemed to have gotten over a bit of his fear of Harry, or else it was masked by his worry and anger, for he stepped closer to him than the two had been in months, yelling the entire time.

"Then why don't you come with me instead?" Harry taunted; the anger built in him and he did not try to control it. "Or are you too scared to leave your room? Face it, Ron. Your little sister is a hell of a lot braver than you'll ever be."

He was suddenly sick of Ron's wimpiness, sick of watching him tiptoe around like he was afraid of his own shadow. He was no help at all just when Harry needed him the most, and nothing could change that.

"Why don't you go back to the Common Room where it's safe. Maybe _Lavender_ will be there to protect you."

It was below the belt, but Harry didn't care. He ignored Hermione's shocked flinch and barely saw Ron take a step back from his balled fists. Ron's mouth opened as if to say something else, Harry felt another growl of anger building up in his chest, and then suddenly, the scene swam before him as if he had pulled off his glasses.

 _Bright lights flashed in his face, still blurry enough to make him dizzy. He thought he should feel for his glasses, to see where they must have fallen, but he couldn't move his arms; something was holding him back. A wave of sadness came from . . . where? Someone was yelling Sirius' name -it might even have been him. And then . . . pain. Pain like he had never felt it before was almost splitting his head in two . . . . . But, no, he had felt it before. And it was the same._

 _Harry was in agony. He wanted to die. A pause, and then, again, he heard himself forced to speak Voldemort's words . . . challenging Dumbledore to kill him._


	5. In the Common Room

A/N: Writing Harry and Dumbledore is really difficult for me in this story - there are things I'm trying to convey without giving too much away yet. But writing Ron and Dean and Ginny is a lot of fun. I hope Dean is annoying all of you as much as me!

When the pain receded and the vision finally faded, Harry took a long second before opening his eyes. He was as nauseated as the previous times Voldemort had been in his head, but something told him this was different. Why would Voldemort be taunting him with memories of events past?

Willing himself not to vomit, Harry finally dared to open his eyes and look at Ron.

Ron still looked terrified. And angry. Harry was not even sure he had noticed him tune out.

Neville had noticed, though. He had come up behind Ron and was looking at Harry strangely. Harry thought he saw a glimpse of the old, concerned Neville in his eyes when he asked, "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry's head was still pounding. He rubbed his temples and muttered, "Yeah, I think so," in Neville's general direction. The other boy nodded. "Uhh, okay then," he said, turning away quickly.

Harry looked up to meet Ron's eyes. His friend had finally noticed that something was wrong. "You saw something, didn't you?" he asked, starting to back away from Harry as if he was contaminated. "Whatever it was, I don't want to know." The look on Ron's face clearly said he expected Harry to try to drag them all off to fight Death Eaters.

Harry was still too dizzy to get mad. He wished he could just go up to his room to lie down and be alone, but that wouldn't do on the first day of classes. Instead, he snapped, "I'm _fine_ , Ron. I didn't see anything," before wheeling around and stomping into Professor Flitwick's class.

Several hours, and classes, later, Harry's desire to be alone had only intensified. It might have been his imagination, but people seemed to be steering a wide berth around him as he walked the corridors of the castle. While it was better than the years he had been pointed and stared at, it was still disconcerting, particularly because he did not have Ron, Hermione or Neville to distract him. All three were the chief avoiders among the students, it appeared.

He finally made it up to Gryffindor Tower after lunch. Ignoring his still pounding head, he grabbed the Marauder's Map out of his trunk and sat down in the common room, determined to keep an eye on Malfoy for a while. The Slytherin had been in all of Harry's NEWT classes so far, and Harry suspected that he probably had this hour free as well.

He opened up the Map, idly wondering where Ginny was right now. It would probably make sense to coordinate their schedules so that they could pass the Map back and forth to each other. They should also figure out a way to let the other know what they had found. He wondered if he could charm a coin like Hermione had done last year so he would know if Ginny decided to follow Malfoy or something. It might not be a bad idea.

Still musing, Harry opened the Map and began scanning. Hermione was in the library – no real surprise there, except for the fact that she had not seemed nearly as studious as usual so far this year. Neville was in the greenhouses. But where was Malfoy? A quick glance told Harry that he was not in the Slytherin Common Room, nor out on the grounds. He peered closer, frowning when he saw other familiar names walking the corridors. Ginny and Dean. Ron and, and Lavender?

Harry shook his head. If Ginny was out of class, she should be coming here to help him, he thought, with a flash of irritation. He briefly considered going to find her but instead refocused on his search for Malfoy.

After nearly twenty minutes of peering at tiny dots, a task that reawakened his headache, Harry had to admit that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. He bent back over the Map, looking for Ginny now. Finding her, however, only increased his frustration. There was Ginny's dot, only one floor below the common room. Not moving. And almost obscured by another name.

 _Hmph. Broom closet._

Harry slammed the Map closed and stomped up to his room. Once there, he belatedly remembered to wipe the map clean before stowing it back in his trunk. He sat on his bed for a couple of minutes, feeling his tenseness evaporate in the quiet room. Briefly, he thought of Ginny's comment about his anger last night. Just as briefly, he dismissed it. It was his friends who were acting weird, not him. He was just reacting to them.

 _He couldn't ignore the vision he had had, however. Why would Voldemort decide to show him the Department of Mysteries fight again? Was he thinking about it for some reason? Thinking about another way to discover the prophecy, perhaps?_

 _It didn't make sense to Harry. Maybe he had missed something. Maybe it wasn't the same fight at all. Maybe it wasn't even real. Voldemort couldn't think that another false vision would work, could he?_

Harry frowned. Probably nothing more than a flashback brought on by the stress of being back at school or something. He stood up, figuring he better go get his things together before his next class. And maybe he could talk to Ginny, too.

Ginny was in fact down in the common room. But so was Dean. The two of them were standing tensely, facing Ron, who seemed to be shouting. Harry saw Hermione there too, off to one side, biting her lip. And Lavender, far closer to Ron, looking interested.

". . . my own sister!" Ron was saying angrily. "Honestly, Ginny, anyone could have walked by!"

"Walked by an empty, out of the way corridor, and opened a broom closet?" Ginny was yelling right back. Seamus, walking by, gave Dean a subtle thumbs up. Harry bristled as he saw Dean grin smugly.

Harry stopped at the bottom of the stairs, watching. _Might as well let Ron handle this one; he's doing a good job of it._ Harry was strangely pleased that his friend was telling Ginny that she should not be sneaking around to snog her boyfriend.

"You're just mad because you haven't been snogging anyone yourself!" Ginny screamed back. "Honestly, Ron, could you be any more clueless? Harry's snogged Cho Chang, Hermione's snogged Viktor Krum, and now you have Lavender hanging all over you and the best you could do was ask her if she was lost when she cornered you outside Transfiguration! No wonder you're not getting any action and have to spend all your time following me!"

From his position on the bottom step, Harry saw Hermione blanch and then turn expressionless at Ginny's words. She abruptly turned and walked out of the portrait hole, carrying her books. Ron looked towards her for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but stopped. Instead, he turned back to his sister.

"It's none of your business what I do or don't do, Ginny!" yelled Ron. "Maybe I just don't want the entire castle to know that I've spent more time in broom closets than in class so far this year!"

Harry had to grin, listening to Ron berate his sister. Ginny huffed at her brother angrily. Looking around the room at the silent students who were watching, she caught Harry's eye for a moment.

"Fine," she said. "If it bugs you so much that I'm spending too much time with Dean, I'll just hang out more with _Harry_ instead. At least then you don't have to worry about me snogging in a broom closet!"

Ginny's voice trailed off as she realized exactly what she had said, a blush creeping up her face. Across the room, Harry stopped smiling.

Whatever Ron was going to say next, he bit it back as soon as Ginny mentioned spending more time with Harry. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Looking wildly around, Ron caught sight of Harry, now walking towards him. Ron's anger deflated, and the fearful look returned to his eyes.

"Fine, Ginny," he said. "Spend as much time with Dean as you want. Just don't let me catch you again." He looked swiftly at Harry. "And stay away from . . . well, from anything dangerous. Or _anyone_."

Dean obviously had little idea what was going on between Harry and Ron. He grinned when he heard Ron essentially give him permission to keep snogging Ginny and clapped the other boy on his back. "It's okay, Weasley," he said. "I'm sure that when you're not around, Potter is more than capable of playing the role of overbearing big brother. Right, Harry?" He looked over to where Harry was standing, stone faced, casually putting his own arm around Ginny at the same time.

Ginny shrugged him off. "Will everyone stop talking about me as if I'm not here? I can decide for myself who I want to be with and when, and who I want to snog, or _not_ , thank you very much." She looked pointedly at Dean at the end of her speech. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I think I need some time alone before my next class."

As Harry realized the Ginny was leaving, again, he ran towards her. "Ginny, wait, aren't you going to help me look for Malfoy?"

Ginny turned back towards him, still annoyed. "As much as I would love to upset my dear brother even further by spending time with you, I really do want to be away from all overprotective gits for a while." She looked back at her boyfriend, who had started towards her. "And that includes _you_ , Dean."

Catching sight of Harry's expression, Ginny softened a bit. "Harry, I promise, I'll be waiting for you tonight, after your meeting with Dumbledore. We'll talk then, okay?"

"Okay," said Harry grudgingly. At least she wasn't ditching him to hang out with Dean.

That night, Harry went to the Headmaster's office. Ginny had promised again when he left that she would be waiting for him when he returned; he supposed he didn't care then that Dean was waiting for her _now_. _Although, now that Ron was apparently okay with the two of them, maybe it was up to him to keep Ginny in line. Protect her honor, so to speak._ The thought of interrupting one of Ginny and Dean's snog sessions made Harry feel strangely good.

Although Harry had left the common room curious about what Dumbledore might be planning to teach him, the closer he got to the gargoyle, the less interested he became. _Whatever it is, I'll just watch and then go back to talk to Ginny._ Ginny and Malfoy were at the forefront of Harry's mind by the time he finished going round the circular staircase and knocked, slightly dizzily, on Professor Dumbledore's door.

"Come in." The Headmaster's voice from behind the door was serene as ever.

Harry entered, quickly taking the seat Dumbledore offered. Despite the sudden disinterest that passed over him, Harry could not help but glance again at the Headmaster's blackened hand. It was every bit as dead looking as when Harry had last seen it. For a moment, his head cleared, and Harry felt a strange thrill rush through him as he stared at the shriveled fingers. Something . . . some knowledge tickled at the edge of his brain, and then disappeared.

"Well, Harry, I guess you're wondering why I've decided to take a greater interest in your lessons," said Dumbledore.

"Yes sir," responded Harry automatically. Dumbledore waited, as if expecting Harry to go on, or ask a question, but he had nothing else to say.

"I've decided, since you now know exactly what the Prophecy said, and why Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a baby, that you are ready to be given certain other information."

Harry had been sitting rather listlessly in his seat, but when the Headmaster mentioned the Prophecy, a jolt of excitement tore through him, and he looked up with interest.

"Information that will help me survive, sir?"

"I certainly hope that it will help you survive, yes," said Dumbledore. "And there are gaps in my knowledge that I hope you can help me fill, as well. Much of what we are going to discuss and learn is based on theory and guesswork. If you can help me fill in some of the details, we will get that much closer to our ultimate goal. But it won't always be easy. I hope you can assist me in finding some of those answers."

Harry's excitement left as quickly as it came. He nodded again, automatically. "Whatever you need, sir," he replied.

Dumbledore frowned. "Is everything all right, Harry?" he asked.

"Fine, sir," replied Harry

Again, Dumbledore waited an extra beat, as if Harry would have more to say. Sighing then, he picked up a bottle filled with swirling silvery mist and began trying to wrench the stopper out of it with his bad hand. On the third finger of his other was a large, ugly black ring with a strange cracked stone set in it. It glinted dully in the low lamplight.

Harry watched impassively for a moment, and then asked, "Can I help, sir? And, what is that ring?"

Dumbledore loosened the stopper with his wand and poured the memories into the Pensieve on his desk. "All in good time, Harry, all in good time. Now, if you will follow me, we are going to take a trip into the memory of a former Ministry worker named Bob Ogden."

"Whatever you say, sir," replied Harry, standing to dip his head into the stone basin.

An hour later, both appeared back in Dumbledore's office. Harry gazed around without comment; Dumbledore was frowning.

The trip into the memory of Bob Ogden had been, odd. Harry had been politely distant much of the time, with sudden bursts of animation and curiosity that reminded Dumbledore of the Harry he had known before the Department of Mysteries. He had been particularly interested in Marvolo Gaunt's ring, both in the Pensieve and on Dumbledore's hand; the Headmaster caught the boy staring at it many times, a perplexed look on his face. Other than that interest, Harry had agreed promptly with nearly everything Dumbledore said, although sometimes it appeared he had been barely listening as the Headmaster described his suspicions about how Merope Gaunt had ended up married to Tom Riddle Senior, and how the marriage had ended soon thereafter, leaving a destitute and pregnant Merope to find her way in the world alone.

Harry had been equally closed off when Dumbledore had collected him from the Dursleys earlier in the summer, but then, the man had dismissed the behavior as a reaction to Harry's recent loss of his godfather. Harry had assured Dumbledore then that he was not going to shut himself away; Sirius would not have wanted it. Now, Dumbledore was not so sure that Harry had been able to keep his promise. He seemed the very picture of a boy trying desperately to close himself off from all emotion, so he didn't have to feel pain.

Dumbledore roused himself from this thought and looked at Harry. The boy was still staring at his ring. He suddenly looked up at Dumbledore, his face once again lit with curiosity.

"Professor," he began, hesitantly, "what happened to the locket?"

Dumbledore was pleased; apparently Harry had been paying more attention in the Pensieve that had first appeared.

"Ahh," he responded. "Slytherin's locket, yes. Well, that heirloom is fairly easy to trace, at least for a while. . ." Dumbledore prodded the surface of the Pensieve with his wand and the slowly rotating figure of a stooped and rather haughty looking old man rose out of the silver mist.

"She appeared at the shop one night in early winter," the figure said. "We were already closed, but when I saw what she was holding . . . well, I couldn't turn her away without at least checking her story. We hear them all the time, of course, especially from those who really need the money, and let me tell you, she was certainly desperate. Heavy with child, unattractive, alone. And carrying Slytherin's locket! My partner and I could not believe it after a few simple spells confirmed the truth. She had no idea what it was worth, happy to get ten Galleons for it. She disappeared after that, we never saw her again."

The man melted back into the Pensieve.

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "So where is it?"

"Well, history says it stayed there, in the shop for close to twenty years after that. It was Merope Gaunt, of course, who sold it. Several weeks later she died giving birth to Tom Riddle."

"I know, sir," said Harry automatically. "But, the locket?"

Dumbledore sighed. Harry was not particularly interested in the personal history of the man who became Voldemort. _He must want to avoid thinking about family right now,_ the Headmaster mused.

"The locket eventually disappeared from the shop – Borgin and Burke, it's called. The store still exists in Knockturn Alley, although old Caractacus Burke died many years ago."

Harry started at hearing the name of the shop that had bought Merope Gaunt's locket from her.

"Sir, that shop, it's devoted to the Dark Arts, is it not?"

"Yes, yes it is," answered Dumbledore. "I doubt any Light shop would have wanted the locket, or recognized it for what it was."

Harry took a deep breath, as if to prepare himself for something. "Sir," he said, "I saw Malfoy in that same shop, just a couple of weeks ago. I . . . I think he was up to something. He was asking the owner to help him fix an item. I couldn't see what it was. Sir, I think that Malfoy has become a Death Eater."

 _Dumbledore hid his shock as he looked at Harry. How had the boy found out? What else did he know? It could be very dangerous if Harry and his friends tried to interfere with Draco right now. The boy was no doubt terrified and desperate, and that made him dangerous. Snape would have to be warned._

Dumbledore chuckled. "A sixteen year old Death Eater? Surely Voldemort is not that desperate for followers yet. Trust me, Harry, I don't think Mr. Malfoy is up to anything more sinister than the normal school hijinx the two of you seem so fond of. Broken noses and the like?" His voice was light, but he watched Harry carefully as the boy flushed, obviously realizing that the Headmaster knew exactly what had happened on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry opened his mouth as if to say something else, then closed it, his face going stony. For the first time since he had arrived in the office, his face held real emotion: he looked angry.

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Nothing, sir," he replied. "It's late. I'd better get back to Gryffindor Tower."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. I will let you know when I would like to meet again. In the meantime, please think about everything you saw and heard today."

Harry nodded, and left quickly.

 _Dumbledore sighed, thinking to himself as he put away the Pensieve. I hope Harry is able to shake off his grief. He needs to focus on this. Hopefully Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have noticed too. Friends are usually the best remedy after a loss._

Harry was frustrated as he walked back to Gryffindor Tower. Dumbledore had been all too quick to dismiss his concerns about Malfoy. Why did no one believe him? Well, no one except Ginny, he amended. At least that was something. Although they had barely had any time to discuss his theory, so far.

And Ginny's own theory about how even Harry was acting off just made things more difficult. Harry frowned to himself. For a moment there in Dumbledore's office, he had thought about telling the Headmaster how oddly Ron and Hermione and Neville were being. Harry had not seen Luna at school, so he had no idea if she was still acting disconcertingly _normal._ But the discussion of Borgin and Burke had focused Harry's attention on Draco first; if he admitted it to himself, he had expected Dumbledore to be more interested in what Harry had to say about the Slytherin. After the man dismissed Harry's concerns, talking about his friends felt like a waste of time.

Harry was feeling better by the time he got back to the Tower, and his mood only improved when he saw Ginny, waiting for him by the fire.

He hadn't realized how late it was until he took in the mostly empty common room. Even Dean had given up, it seemed. Dropping into a seat next to her, Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks for waiting up for me."

Ginny blushed. "Yeah, well, I promised, didn't I? So, tell me about your meeting."

Harry realized that only certain things stood out in his mind from his conversation with Dumbledore. He told Ginny about Dumbledore's ring, his burned hand, and Slytherin's locket, which had mysteriously disappeared some years ago. Ginny asked a few questions, and then an enormous yawn split her face. She smiled apologetically at Harry.

"Sorry, I guess I'm kind of tired. Do you want to talk about Malfoy?"

Even though Harry knew he should let Ginny go to bed, and that he needed sleep himself, a stronger part of him wanted to keep talking to her about his suspicions, now that they finally had a few uninterrupted moments to themselves.

"I couldn't find him anywhere today on the Map. It was weird."

"Did you tell Dumbledore what you suspected?"

"Yeah, and he totally dismissed me."

Ginny sat up straight, looking at him seriously. "He did?" She seemed worried.

Harry felt his stomach drop. _Was she going to give up, just because Dumbledore didn't believe him?_ He hurried to reassure her. "I just think he was focused on what he was trying to show me in the Pensieve. I'll talk to him again about it next time we meet. He looked Ginny in the eye, willing her to believe him. "Or maybe he knows something and he's just being mysterious about it – you know Dumbledore. He likes to keep lots of his secrets to himself. Until the right time to reveal them, at least."

That last statement suddenly reminded Harry of the talk he and the Headmaster had had in the broom shed at the Burrow. Dumbledore had urged Harry to share the weight of the Prophecy with Ron and Hermione, but both had acted so strange from the moment Harry reunited with them he had no desire to discuss the thing. In any event, Ron would have been even more terrified, and Hermione, well, Harry had no idea how she might have reacted.

But now, sitting here with Ginny, it felt right. He needed to tell her; he hoped she wouldn't turn her back on him, once she learned he was truly a marked man.

He didn't want to look at her when he said the words; he was too afraid that he was going to see fear, or worse, pity.

"Ginny?"

Silence.

Harry looked up then. Ginny's eyes were closed, she was breathing softly and evenly, her head against one of the cushions on the sofa.

Harry sighed, then leaned forward and prodded her gently on the arm. "Gin? Ginny?"

She turned her head in her sleep and Harry suddenly got a whiff of the flowery smell from the potion in Slughorn's class, the one that reminded him of the Burrow. Ginny opened her eyes to Harry leaning over her, one hand still on her arm.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean . . ."

But Harry couldn't get mad. "S'all right. Go up to sleep."

She nodded. "We'll talk for real tomorrow. I promise."

Harry nodded back. Without even thinking about it, he squeezed her arm lightly for a second and then stood up, offering her his hand.

She smiled and let him help her off the sofa. "Tomorrow, Harry. No matter what."

 _Tomorrow. He would definitely tell her everything tomorrow._


	6. Snogging and Quidditch

The next day passed in a blur of classes. Harry barely paid attention to the fact that neither Ron nor Hermione spoke more than two words to him, so focused was he on the thought that finally, that night, he would be able to unburden himself to Ginny. While walking to Herbology, he vaguely wondered why Dumbledore hadn't asked him how his friends had taken the news of the full prophecy. But then, maybe he had; Harry's memories from parts of the meeting were rather blurry. He hoped he had given Dumbledore a satisfactory answer. He really didn't want to get into a discussion with the man about what was going on with his friends. Dumbledore had told him to keep the contents of the prophecy a secret, except for Ron and Hermione. For some reason, he didn't want to admit that he saw them as no help now. Nor did he want Dumbledore to know that he planned to tell Ginny instead.

Thoughts of their coming discussion buoyed Harry through the day. He had figured out that Quidditch tryouts should occur the next day – Saturday, and had posted a notice in the common room. A number of students had greeted the news – and Harry – with enthusiasm, and he found himself looking forward to being captain for the first time since he had gotten the badge.

Harry's good mood only increased when he saw Ginny at dinner, not sitting with Dean. Instead, she was in deep conversation with her roommates Demelza Robins and Emma Dobbs. He didn't even notice Dean and Seamus sitting halfway down the table as he walked up to Ginny, intent on setting a time for them to talk that evening.

"Oi, Potter! I'd not interrupt their little study session if I were you, unless of course you want the girls to practice their transfiguration on you!" Dean grimaced and tugged at his red and gold Gryffindor tie, which seemed to have gone rather tight around his neck.

Looking at him, Harry remembered OWL-level transfiguration from last year and trying to learn the complicated steps needed to transfigure clothing while it was being worn. The mental image of Ron, suddenly bursting out of a white uniform shirt that he had tried to transform into a jumper, popped into Harry's head, and he choked back a laugh, involuntarily looking over at Ron to share the memory. Ron cringed and jumped in his seat as if Harry had growled at him instead of laughed and Harry sighed. _Best save that story for another time._

Harry ignored Dean and Ron and instead leaned over the table where Ginny and her friends were now trying to change the lengths of their own uniform ties.

"Uhh, Ginny?" Harry wanted to ask her when she could meet without giving her roommates an idea about what was going on. They didn't need to advertise to the entire House that Harry suspected Draco Malfoy of being a Death Eater. If Ron and Hermione wouldn't believe him, a bunch of random fifth years were not likely to, either. And Harry knew he didn't want to hear Ginny try to defend his theory to her friends. Or Dean, for that matter. Especially Dean.

Ginny looked up from her wand and gave him a smile. "Hi Harry, what's up?"

Harry was momentarily disconcerted as the flowery Burrow-smell washed over him again. He struggled to regain his composure and figure out what to say. "Oh, well, it's just, well, I like what you've done with your tie."

Harry mentally kicked himself. Ginny's tie had curled up on itself and looked rather ridiculous. Plus, he hadn't asked her anything about meeting tonight. He was trying to think of what else to say when Dean's voice rang out again.

"Hey, Gin! How come Potter can talk to you without being turned into a human transfiguration guinea pig? Aren't you going to shrink his pants or something?"

For some reason, this made Ginny blush. Harry was about to respond when Dean, _Sweet Merlin, didn't the bloke ever shut up? s_ poke again.

"Ahh, I get it now. Potter's probably checking up on the status of your homework, since brother Ronnie seems, otherwise occupied."

Harry looked over at Ron again and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. For the first time since Harry had known him, his best friend was not paying attention to the full plate of food in front of him. Instead of being wrapped around the large slice of steak and kidney pie he had selected, Ron's lips were quite completely wrapped around the similarly occupied ones of Lavender Brown.

HPHPHPHPHP

Ron didn't know exactly how it happened. True, he had been thinking a lot more about kissing ever since Ginny had yelled at him in the common room, but most of his thoughts had been along the lines of, _What does Ginny expect me to do, just grab Lavender in front of everyone?_ And, even more frequently, _Did Hermione really snog Krum?_ He hadn't exactly thought about putting anything specific into action, especially because he didn't have anyone he could talk things over with, right now. After Ginny's explosion, sitting alone in his room, Ron had half made up his mind to go find Harry. Harry would listen without taking the mickey out of him, Ron was sure. And maybe they could have a go at Ginny and Dean at the same time. Ron hadn't missed the looks Harry gave her whenever he saw her with Dean; he was glad to think that his best mate was as disgusted at the antics of his little sister as he was. Hermione actually thought that Harry fancied Ginny, but just didn't realize it yet. And laying there on his bed, Ron had admitted to himself that if Ginny had to be with someone, Harry was probably better than anyone else.

All this had seemed well and good up in the dormitory. _So what happened?_ Ron wasn't sure, he just knew that when he next saw Harry the following morning, the understanding of just how dangerous he was hit him like a brick wall. _Had he really considered talking to him about girls?_ _He had been right the first time. Ginny was much better off with Dean._

Ron didn't remember much else about the day until he got to dinner. Everywhere he went, Harry was there, glaring at him. And even Hermione seemed, off. She seemed sad, and Ron had no idea why. He thought they'd been getting along okay; they'd spent even more time together than usual, actually, banding together in the face of Harry's behavior. But now she was quiet, and seemed to be avoiding him.

At dinner, everything turned upside down. Ron was shocked when Harry walked right up to Ginny and interrupted her studying; he nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw how close Harry was to her. And then he looked up and glared right at Ron, as if warning him to stay back. Ron froze in fear at the look on Harry's face. And then, suddenly, there was a hand on his back, and a soothing voice in his ear. Soft, sweet breath. Ron relaxed for the first time that day as Lavender's lips traveled slowly across his face and down to his own lips. He didn't hear the catcalls from Dean and Seamus or his sister's annoyed "humph", didn't see Hermione suddenly get up from her seat and run out of the Hall or even Harry's shocked face. He didn't think about anything at all.

After several seconds – or it could have been minutes – or at least long enough for Ron's food to get cold, they pulled apart. Most of those around them erupted in applause and good-natured jeers and calls of "get a room!" Lavender looked quite pleased with herself.

"Well, it certainly took you long enough. I guess I have your sister to thank for helping you get your head out of your arse and realize I fancied you."

Ron stuttered. "You . . . you fancy me? I thought you just wanted a . . . snog or something."

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Same thing, isn't it?"

 _Ron's brain, still muddled, didn't reply. Was it the same? He'd never thought about fancying Lavender before. This kissing was nice, though. He'd have to ask Hermione. She understood all that girl stuff._

But looking around, he saw that Hermione was gone. Harry was nowhere to be seen either, and Ron, feeling supremely relaxed, looked at Lavender and asked, "D'you want to take a walk before curfew?"

HPHPHPHPHPHP

Ron's little display at dinner drove Harry's good feelings right out of him. _He couldn't look me in the eye but he could waste his time snogging Lavender Brown?_ Harry didn't even want to think about it. Unfortunately, he had nothing else to occupy his mind. Ginny was apologetic, but she still wouldn't budge on her need to study with Demelza and Emma instead of talking to him, particularly when Harry admitted that it wasn't Draco he wanted to discuss. He couldn't tell her what was really on his mind when her friends were sitting there listening - _uh, yeah Ginny, I found out that I either need to kill Voldemort or be killed by him -_ that would certainly be a laugh. Finally, he stomped out of the Great Hall and went to get his Firebolt. He didn't come back inside until minutes before curfew, feeling a little better but determinedly ignoring absolutely everyone in the common room as he went up to bed – snogging couples included.

The next morning, Harry was surprised to see the large number of students who showed up to try out for the Quidditch team. Even after he sent the curious Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs away, and chased off the Slythering spies, there were still close to forty people waiting in the stands. Most astonishing of all, Harry saw Ron, sitting there with a broom and a determined look on his face while Lavender whispered in his ear. Harry looked around the stands again, but couldn't find either Hermione or Neville. His eyes instead came to rest on Ginny, grinning at him and holding her broom; he suspected that somehow, she would be a great flyer. Unfortunately, Dean was sitting next to her, his arm around her shoulders, clutching a new looking Cleansweep 7.

Harry was momentarily distracted. _I thought nothing could tear Dean away from his precious Muggle soccer. Can't he leave Ginny alone for Quidditch at least?_ Biting back the strangely bitter feelings, Harry focused on the task at hand. He had to make a good impression if he wanted his eventual team to ever pay attention to him.

The morning was long and tiring. Harry tried to be supremely focused on the selection process; he delayed the Keeper tryouts as long as possible and placed Ginny and Dean in separate groups for their trials. It took hours, flying all over the field, watching as the students flew, threw Bludgers, and passed Quaffles. Occasionally he came down to the stands to talk to various groups and move people around, trying his best to avoid looking at Ron and Lavender. From the comments he heard around him, though, he could guess that the two of them were paying a lot more attention to each other than they were to the trials.

It wasn't always easy, though, and the appearance of Hermione, halfway through the morning, considerably upped the tension in that part of the stands Harry was trying to avoid. Harry didn't actually see her arrive, but suddenly Ron was yelling and batting away a flock of small birds that were flying around his head, pecking. Annoyed, Harry's eyes found Ginny, who was preparing to take her first fly around the pitch.

 _"What's going on up there anyway?" And why does it have to interrupt the tryouts?_

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Lavender had to go to the loo, and my prat of a brother took the opportunity to ask for advice about fancying her . . . _from Hermione_."

Even Harry, thick as he felt about girls most of the time, understood that this had probably not been a good idea. He looked up in the stands. Most of the students still waiting to try out were jumping around, laughing, pointing, and, in a couple of instances, trying to recreate the flock of birds around their competitor's heads. Hermione was now sitting off to one side high in the stands, watching as Lavender came back and began trying to help Ron banish the birds. Harry sighed. Ron was probably the best prospect he had for Keeper, and something told him that no one but Hermione would be able to undo the charm.

After telling everyone to take a break, Harry walked up the stands to where Hermione was sitting, reading Hogwarts, A History, and very deliberately not looking where Ron and Lavender were sitting below. He was prepared to do anything, beg, promise not to delay his homework, join SPEW, anything, to convince her to get rid of the birds so Ron could try out for Keeper.

Hermione barely seemed to notice as Harry approach. She closed her book and gazed off across the pitch. Harry sat down next to her, wishing the entire day was already over. He didn't need this aggravation right now.

"Hermione?"

"Hmmm?" She didn't tear her gaze away from the trees past the far end of the goalposts.

"Listen, do you think you could, please, get rid of those birds just while try outs are going on? Ron hasn't had a chance to fly yet. Please?"

Hermione finally looked over at Harry. "Birds?"

Harry wanted to pull his hair out. This was the Hermione he had been dealing with all summer. Only half there. He tried again.

"Yes, birds. The ones you conjured to fly around Ron's head and peck the hell out of his face. Can you get rid of them, please?" Harry did not try to mask his irritation.

"Yeah, maybe later," she replied vaguely. "If I can remember what I did."

Harry forced himself to count to ten. Hermione was going to be no help whatsoever. No surprise there. Maybe Ginny would have better luck. He would ask her after all the Chasers flew. Ron would just have to suffer a bit longer.

The interruption did nothing to help Harry's temper as he reconvened the students to continue the trials. After he snapped at a group of second years for flying in the wrong direction and made one of them cry, he considered chucking the whole day and finishing up another time. The thought of Malfoy's face if he heard that Harry had failed so spectacularly at his first task at Captain was all that kept him from stomping off the pitch altogether and leaving someone else in charge. Instead, he took a deep breath and started calling for the next group.

To Harry's satisfaction, Ginny was as fantastic a Chaser as he had suspected. There was no question that he would add her to the team, along with the still great Katie Bell. Watching Dean fly in the second-to-last group, Harry grudgingly admitted to himself that he wasn't bad either. But seeing him jump off his broom after scoring a goal and run to throw his arms around Ginny annoyed Harry to no end.

 _Oi. If they are both on the team we will never get anything accomplished!_

Harry was looking over the previous flyers, trying to figure out who had been as good as Dean when the last group took to the air. It was a huge relief to watch Ginny's friend Demelza handle the Quaffle with ease and grace.

 _And she and Ginny are good friends and work well together. Perfect._

Dean was a good sport when he learned he had not made the team, but instead of leaving with most of the other rejected flyers, he told Harry that he was going to wait in the stands "to cheer on my girlfriend." Harry bit his lip and said nothing. _At least now I can keep him away from practices. Ginny doesn't need the distraction._

Finally Harry couldn't avoid it any longer and it was time for Keeper tryouts. Apparently Hermione had finally taken pity on Ron because the birds had disappeared. _Well, that's one thing accomplished._

As he watched Ron, still high up in the stands, give Lavender a slow kiss before bounding down to the pitch, Harry struggled to control his anger. _Ron needs to take this more seriously. I'm not putting him on the team just because he's my mate._ He just hoped Ron could keep himself on his broom and not turn into a big, hysterical scaredy cat or something. Harry didn't have the patience for another one of his paranoid outbursts.

While he was talking to the five students who wished to try out for Keeper, it happened again. One minute, he was explaining that each of them would get the chance to block five shots by the new Chasers, trying to ignore the feeling of rage building inside him as he looked at Ron, who looked about to pass out, and the next, he was back _there._ The Department of Mysteries.

 _More flashes of light. Familiar voices screaming, a cold, high pitched laugh that suddenly disappeared. A question. And pain. Again the pain._

It was over more quickly this time. The bright sun made Harry's head pound and he could barely focus on everyone who suddenly crowded around him, wanting to know what had happened, why he had suddenly grabbed his head and moaned.

Harry hated the attention. Hated the questions. He just wanted to be alone.

But even as he opened his mouth to postpone the rest of the trials, he stopped. _He was the captain. Time to act like it._

Thinking back later, Harry didn't know exactly how he got through the rest of the trial. Ginny at least seemed to understand that he just didn't want to talk about it right then. She asked a question about Chaser formation that Harry was positive she already knew the answer to, but it did the trick of focusing everyone's attention back on Quidditch. It was better once he sent the Keepers up into the air to defend the goals; he could watch from a seated position on the ground; it was simply a matter of which flyer saved the most.

Ginny took to the air first and it was all Harry could do to keep from yelling at Dean to shut his mouth as he cheered for his girlfriend. It was his right, after all, Harry kept telling himself. And the noise at an actual game will be much worse.

With Lavender cheering him on, it was obvious that Ron's confidence was back. He saved all five goals flung at him and Harry quickly declared him the new Keeper. Although Oliver probably would have pulled the team together for a pep talk and long practice right there, Harry dismissed everyone and headed as quickly as possible back towards the castle.

"Harry, wait." Ginny was suddenly behind him. He grudgingly turned, not wanting to see her wrapped around Dean.

 _It's just because Ron wouldn't like it either, if he was around to notice, the git._

But Ginny was alone. Harry suddenly felt better.

"Where's Dean?"

Ginny shrugged. "I sent him ahead. His cheerleading was getting a little . . . too enthusiastic."

Harry scowled, his imagination running away with him. "Did he . . . ?" _He better not have._

"Oh, no, not like that," said Ginny. "And anyway, I can take care of myself just fine in that area. I don't need my brother . . .or anyone else . . . telling me what I can and cannot do. For some reason, she blushed.

"Good," said Harry. "I mean, I know you can take care of yourself. I just didn't want to have to hex one of my roommates." He blushed suddenly himself. "Oh behalf of Ron, I mean," he added hastily.

"Right," said Ginny. On behalf of Ron." She opened her mouth as if she was gong to say something, but a second later closed it again. Then she half smiled at Harry and asked "So, have you and Ron talked, then? Even about how much both of you think you need to take care of me?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Ron may be, uhh, preoccupied right now, but he's still a right bloody coward around me. The git." Harry scowled, his mood blackening as he thought of Ron, giving him terrified looks even as his tongue tangled with Lavender's.

"Harry," Ginny began hesitantly. He looked up, somehow knowing what she was going to say.

 _I should have known she wasn't going to let it drop for good._

But Harry was less reluctant to talk about his most recent vision with Ginny. He still needed to tell her about the prophecy; somehow time kept getting away from them.

"Something happened to you right before Keeper tryouts, didn't it? You zoned out for a minute and grabbed your head." She grimaced. "I thought Ron was going to run away, he was so frightened. He kept saying, 'he's having another one,' and trying to keep me away from you." Her eyes studied him. "Is Voldemort in your head again?"

Harry realized that Ginny hadn't been around when he'd had the flashback after potions, although he suspected she'd heard the story. Was Voldemort planting visions in his head again? He didn't know the answer.

"I don't know what is going on," he said truthfully. "It's the second time it's happened. And both times, I see the Department of Mysteries again. Part of the battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore. I hear screaming, and then I feel the pain when he tried to possess me." Harry was lost in the memory, but he couldn't fail to notice that Ginny shuddered when he mentioned being possessed. "Sorry," he said, feeling lame. _Potter, you prat, it sounds like you're boasting that Voldemort wasn't able to possess you!  
_ Ginny grimaced. "I'm sorry too. It's bad enough knowing that I had Tom Riddle in my head, but at least I didn't feel any pain. It must be so much worse remembering the feeling of him in there."

Harry barely registered Ginny's words or the fact that she wasn't mad at him. Her comment had awakened a thought – there for only the shortest moment – that there was something Harry should know, or remember, or understand. Something about being possessed . . . having Voldemort in his head . . . but it was gone, leaving Harry wondering what he was missing.

What he was missing, apparently, was Ginny, continuing to talk. She was suddenly waving her hand in front of his face, asking in a concerned voice, "Harry? Did it just happen again?"

Harry shook his head, both to clear it and to answer Ginny. "No, I'm fine. Just trying to remember . . . something." He looked at her, sheepish now. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you just then."

For some reason, Ginny took a deep breath before speaking. "I was asking you if you noticed that both times you've had those visions or flashbacks, or whatever, it was right after you got really mad at Ron."

Harry frowned. He hadn't really noticed. "Ginny, I don't think . . ."

"I know, I know, you don't see anything weird in the fact that you keep exploding at Ron . . ."

"It's only because he's being such a wimp!" Harry couldn't help but interrupt.

"Well maybe he's being like that because you're scaring him to death!" Ginny had her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

Harry didn't want to make Ginny mad again. He forced himself to take a deep breath. "Look, Ginny, I'll think about it, okay?"

Ginny wasn't letting him off the hook that easily. "Think about what, exactly?"

Harry suppressed a smile. _She doesn't give up, does she?_ "Think about . . . well, whether I'm being too angry at Ron for no reason. And whether there is a connection to the visions I'm having. Okay?"

Ginny smiled at him. "Okay."

Harry felt better. Maybe now he could finally tell her about the prophecy. "Hey, Ginny, do you have time to talk? There's something I want to tell you. In private."

Ginny nodded, looking interested. "Sure. Where should we go?"

Harry pulled the Marauder's Map out of his robes. He always carried it, these days. "The Room of Requirement? Let's see if there's a clear path up there." He hoped Ginny assumed he wanted to steer clear of Ron; really though, Harry was thinking more of avoiding Dean.

Bending over the Map, Harry and Ginny saw something even more interesting. Malfoy and Goyle, walking together, up towards the seventh floor corridor. They seemed to be heading towards the Room of Requirement themselves. Even as they watched, Draco's dot marched back and forth three times and suddenly disappeared, leaving Goyle pacing in the hallway.

"You can't see people in the Room of Requirement!" Harry shouted. "That's why I couldn't find him on the Map." He was relieved to have the mystery solved, even though he was no closer to figuring out exactly what Malfoy was up to.

"I wonder what the room looks like right now," Ginny mused, watching Goyle's dot. "And why he didn't take Goyle with him."

"I'll bet he's a lookout," said Harry. "Should we try to get in?"

But it all came to nothing, in the end. Although Harry and Ginny were amused to discover that Goyle was acting lookout while disguised as a little girl (how had Draco gotten the Polyjuice?), even after Harry and Ginny scared him away, they could not get the room to open for them.

"We'll just need to keep trying," said Harry firmly as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Right," said Ginny, pushing open the portrait hole. "And Harry, promise me that you'll think about what I said?"

Ginny was being too decent for Harry to even think about arguing. "I promise, Ginny." _I guess I'll have to tell her about the prophecy some other time._


	7. A Growing Awareness

A/N: Finally getting back to reposting the rest of this story. For those who might wonder, it's something I started over ten years ago, took a break, and then finished up in 2018. The break in time shows, and honestly, I know now that I'm better at writing things that are less plot-focused and lighter, but I still think the plot idea for the story is solid, even if the execution is lacking somewhat. So here you go.

A Growing Awareness

Two weeks later, Harry still had not had a chance to talk to Ginny alone. He had had another meeting with Dumbledore and detention with Snape, she was buried under homework most evenings, and both of them were busy with Quidditch practice during almost every free hour. Ron wasn't acting much better around Harry, but at least he wasn't worse, either. It probably helped that Lavender had taken it upon herself to come watch nearly every practice; as annoying as she could be, at least it diverted Ron's attention a bit. To Harry's immense relief, Dean stopped coming to practices after the first one. He had been rather loud then, cheering constantly for Ginny, even when she made a mistake and dropped the Quaffle, and Harry had felt a jolt of satisfaction at the annoyed look Ginny had given him then.

 _Just because he's interrupting things._ _I think. She needs to concentrate._ Harry conveniently pushed away the thought that he didn't mind Lavender's interruptions nearly as much.

The worst time was potions class; with the help of the Half Blood Prince, Harry had quickly become the object of Slughorn's praise and attention, causing Ron to spend more time muttering about the dangers of trusting something written in a book than he was on potions. Hermione's work had slipped as well; at least, Harry assumed it had. She was not falling all over herself to answer questions and berating them for not studying. But her potions themselves seemed to be turning out all right; Harry wished he could figure out why she was so blank all the time, but it only annoyed him to think about it, so mostly, he ignored her.

He and Ginny had taken to racing up to the fifth floor corridor whenever Draco disappeared from the Map, but to no avail. They had never been able to get in to find out what he was doing. Only once had a door even appeared, when both of them had been standing in front of the wall, Harry trying a new request to get the room to open. But his pleas for "the place you know we need to be" was a bust. Draco was obviously not hiding in a broom closet.

It was after one of Harry's failed trips to the Room of Requirement that he finally ran into Luna. She was wearing a pair of rainbow-colored glasses the sparkled and popped and walking with her head buried in what looked to be a stack of photographs. As Harry got closer, he saw that they were all of a large, empty field with a random pile of orange rocks in the middle.

 _Probably pictures of the supposed mating site for the elusive warbling Snorkak or something._

"Hey, Luna," said Harry. "Nice pictures. Are they for the next issue of the Quibbler?"

Luna startled for a moment, her eyes going even bigger than normal behind her glasses. After a second, she calmly pushed them up onto her head, where they held back her hair. It was a look Harry remembered seeing on many of the film stars in the silly gossip magazines his Aunt Petunia always read. On Luna, the look was . . . disconcertingly average.

"Hello Harry," she replied pleasantly. "How are you today?"

"Umm, fine Luna," said Harry. He tried again. "Interesting pictures."

Luna looked at the photos in her hands as if she was not quite sure what she was seeing. "Yes, well, my father sent them to me." She frowned at them. "I'm not certain why he thinks they're so important, though. It's just a field of rocks."

Harry had nothing else to say. A small part of him missed the zainy Luna he had known last year and wondered how to find her again. But most of him just wanted to get away. Making an excuse, he walked off in the opposite direction from where she was going. Halfway down the corridor, he turned back to watch her. Luna had pulled her glasses back onto her face and was intently studying the photographs. She did not look up at Harry again.

A week later, Dumbledore was thinking to himself as he walked slowly back towards his office, having found a third-year Gryffindor to deliver the next meeting time to Harry. Once back in his private quarters, he sorted through the remaining Pensieve memories he had to show Harry, wondering if it was time to introduce the more difficult ideas he needed to share.

The Headmaster was feeling a bit better about Harry's attitude since their last meeting, which took Harry back into Dumbledore's own memory of his first meeting with the young Tom Riddle. Harry had been supremely focused the entire time he was observing the scene at the orphanage, asking relevant questions and paying particular attention to the trinkets Riddle had stolen from the other children. He also had been fascinated with the strange death of Hepzibah Smith and disappearance of Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket, looking around Dumbledore's office almost nervously, as if expecting them to be there along with the ring Dumbledore still wore on his good hand. He was so serious and focused that Dumbledore had asked Harry how his friends had taken news of the prophecy. But Harry had clammed up at the question and left soon afterwards, leaving Dumbledore to ponder his behavior once again. Harry's behavior was creating more questions than answers for the Headmaster, and he knew he would have to tread carefully, not just for the sake of Harry's emotional well being, but for his ultimate survival as well.

This meeting was going to be the most significant yet.

Harry appeared right on time that night, as always. Also as always, his eyes strayed immediately to the ring on Dumbledore's finger before he even looked the Headmaster in the face. The boy's unfailing polite distance disconcerted Dumbledore; for a moment, he was uncomfortably reminded of most of the discussions he had ever had with Tom Riddle, when that boy was a student himself. But, still, there was a difference. Dumbledore could still see flickers of the Harry he had known – curious, reckless, emotional, and firmly on the side of good – when he looked into the boy's eyes. Tom Riddle had never let his façade crack for a moment. In fact, Dumbledore wasn't sure it had _been_ a façade. With Harry, there was conflict raging below the carefully bland surface; the Headmaster had theories as to what it was, but he could not be sure, and a wrong guess could be worse at this point than ignoring the situation altogether. Further, he still remembered Harry's reaction the last time he had been asked something personal, and so decided to refrain.

Instead, he pulled out the Pensieve and bottle of memory. Harry seemed rather disinterested in the fact that this memory was obviously different; its congealed nature did not want to drop easily into the bowl below.

Slughorn's altered memory, in which he refused to tell the sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle what a Horcrux was, was very brief. Had Dumbledore not been watching Harry closely, he might have missed the way the boy blanched at Riddle's question and swayed slightly on his feet. A second later, he forced his face back into a careful mask and looked away, swallowing hard. As the pair returned from the memory, however, it was obvious to Dumbledore that something was wrong.

Harry's head was spinning; he thought he was going to vomit. Dimly, he heard Professor Dumbledore's voice: "Are you all right, Harry? Drink this." A cup was thrust into his hand and he brought it automatically to his lips, but gagged before he could swallow any of the contents down.

"Sir . . . I'm not feeling so well. That, that last trip made me a little dizzy," Harry managed to choke out. He wanted more than anything to lay down, to get away from the pounding in his head, the visions that moved too fast to recognize.

"What's wrong, Harry? What happened?" Dumbledore's hand was on his arm. Harry shrugged it off. "Nothing sir," said Harry as forcefully as he could. "I just need to go lay down for a bit. I'll be fine."

Although Harry was sure that Dumbledore knew that he was not fine, the man let him go, peering in his eyes first for a moment as though looking for something that only he could see. If Harry had been feeling better, it would have surprised him that Dumbledore let him leave so easily; clearly, there were questions that needed to be asked. People did not just suddenly fall sick in the middle of a Pensieve. But inexplicably, Dumbledore let him go; Harry was too nauseous by that time to hear whatever it was Dumbledore said to him in parting, or to see the man move to take one of him many silver instruments off a shelf and place it on his desk next to the Pensieve.

Harry managed to make it to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom before he was sick; by the time he was finished vomiting he was so weak he wasn't sure how he would make it back up to Gryffindor Tower

Summoning all his strength, he trudged slowly up to his dormitory, fighting both the nausea and the disturbing images flashing through his brain even as he remained aware of his surroundings. Sometimes he got glimpses of the Department of Mysteries, but other times the images were different, incomprehensible. And still, in the back of his mind, he kept seeing the scene from the Pensieve, hearing Tom Riddle's voice asking a question of the younger Slughorn. It was awful.

Harry was only vaguely aware of the curious and concerned voices that suddenly surrounded him when he stumbled through the portrait hole although he had no memory of giving the password. He tried to ignore them, mumbling that he was just sick and needed to lie down. He registered Ron, louder than the others, saying "I knew it! He did something terrible to himself!" But Harry felt too ill to even think about getting angry. He muttered again that it was nothing, he was fine, and most of the voices faded away as he moved towards the steps. But then a firm hand was on his arm and Ginny's worried voice was in his ear.

"Harry, what's wrong? You look awful."

For her, Harry couldn't deny the truth. "I don't know, Ginny. I was at Dumbledore's, and I don't know what happened. But I . . . I feel horrible and I . . . I think something's wrong."

Ginny steered him up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he was sick again. Afterwards, he let her lead him to his bed and didn't protest when she pulled off his shoes and robes, tucking him under the covers in his uniform pants and t-shirt he wore under his shirt. He felt her put a cool cloth on his head and then he was lost again in the visions, the screams and yells, the flashes of light.

It could have been a Dementor attack, but Dementors didn't hurt so much. The memories were similar though. For a long moment, he was staring at the room where his mum had been killed and hearing Voldemort's high-pitched laugh; the next he felt a slamming pain as if he had been hit by a Bludger. And then, the Department of Mysteries was back, watching as Sirius fell through the veil, feeling the palpable ache in his heart as he lost his godfather over and over. Flashes of light, his head, cleaving in two with the pain of Voldemort inside, a burning flash of insight, and then blissful darkness before it all began again. He saw his friends' terrified faces as they fought the Death Eaters, watched Dumbledore's huge black ring crack along its center as his other hand blackened and burned, heard Tom Riddle over and over again asking about Horcruxes.

Harry had no idea how long his agony lasted or if he slept at all that long night. He was unaware of his roommates coming back and didn't hear Ron yell at Ginny to stay away for her own protection. He had no knowledge of Ginny's angry retort to her brother and did not see her push Dean's hand away when he tried to draw her onto his bed for a snog.

When the pain finally receded the next morning, Ginny was gone and Harry's dorm was empty. He could remember only bits and pieces of his nightmarish visions, but he knew that they had been awful. At the corner of his mind was the feeling he had had before, as if he was missing something big, but his brain was too spent to focus on it.

Harry laid in bed instead of going to Potions that morning. His still tender head and total exhaustion justified the decision, but in truth, he was equally afraid of having to face Dumbledore and answer his questions. Harry didn't have any answers, and if his professor did, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to hear them. His brain was clearing just enough to remember more about his meeting with Dumbledore, and although he physically felt better, his sense of unease grew. The Headmaster may have let him leave the night before out of consideration for his illness, but Harry was sure he could not avoid the man forever.

As a wave of exhaustion crashed over him, he closed his eyes, intent on making up for the night's lost sleep. Harry's last memory before he finally drifted off was not of screams or flashes of light or pain. Instead, he thought of Ginny, holding his hand and wiping his forehead with a cool cloth. Had she really been there with him? Harry wasn't sure, but it was with a smile on his face that he rolled over and fell at last into dreamless sleep.

Hermione had been studying in the Common Room when Harry had returned the night before. Although they had barely been in school for a month, she was already in a panic, feeling much less prepared for her classes and more behind on her homework than usual.

 _Well, nothing to distract me from getting caught up now. Not with Ron totally wrapped up around 'Lav Lav'. At least I don't have to waste my time helping him, the git._

Harry's face as he had come through the portrait hole had startled her; he was deathly pale and looked almost haunted. Hermione had started to get up to see if he needed help when Ron's words, accusing Harry of getting himself into terrible trouble, had stopped her. She had realized that if she neglected her Arithmancy homework any longer she might as well drop the class. Hermione was again staring at the calculations when Harry passed by; she did not notice Ginny take his arm and lead him up the stairs, and she purposely kept her eyes down the rest of the night, so as to avoid the evening ritual of Ron saying a quite public and obnoxious goodnight to Lavender.

Now sitting in Potions, Hermione wondered, briefly, where Harry was; it was strange how little time they had spent together since school had begun. He had been in most of her classes, but had kept to himself for studying. It probably had something to do with the row he seemed to be having with Ron, she concluded. Those two were always going at it about something. It was time that she stopped being the go-between.

Seconds later, Ron slid into the seat next to her. "Where's Harry?" he asked, frowning at the empty seat.

"Seamus told me at breakfast that Harry was sick," put in Ernie. "Isn't that right, Ron?"

Ron frowned. "I . . . I guess so," he said. "At least, he seemed sick last night. Ginny was taking care of him, I think."

Ernie smirked. "Dean must not have liked that, I bet."

Ron frowned again, then shrugged. "Well, I think Harry was pretty sick. He must have needed her."

"Maybe he's having a lie in, then," said Hermione. "We'll be sure to take good notes."

The class ended up being one of their best yet, Hermione thought later. Professor Slughorn's instructions for making a Draught of Peace were easy to follow, and Hermione recognized several techniques that she could apply to other potions as well. Without Harry there mixing things twice as fast pursuant to the Half Blood Prince's directions, Ron was relaxed and successful in getting his potion to turn the gentle silvery-blue it was supposed to be. And without Lavender there, slobbering all over Ron, he and Hermione were able to fall back into the ordinary pattern of their friendship. Which meant, of course, that they were bickering.

"I'm just saying, Hermione, House Elves don't want to play Quidditch, so saying they should have access to their own brooms is ridiculous!"

"How do you know, Ronald? Have you ever asked one if they'd like a broom?"

In reply, Ron threw his hands up in exasperation and stomped out of the classroom. Hermione followed him, fully intent on winning the argument, when Lavender swooped in out of nowhere (or possibly from Divination) and grabbed Ron about the lips. Hermione pursed her own and walked off, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Next time it's eagles."

She finally saw Harry again at lunch, still pale, sitting quietly at the table. He didn't look happy, but Hermione suspected that was due to the fact that Ginny and Dean were sitting together not three seats away. Dean seemed to be cajoling to Ginny, who kept shaking her head and stealing little glances at Harry. Finally, Dean gave her what could only be described as a puppy dog look, opening his eyes wide and pouting his lips, and Ginny apparently gave in to whatever he was asking. She sighed and nodded, and then got up and went over to Harry.

Hermione saw her say something to Harry that obviously upset him. He seemed to be trying to argue with her, but after a moment just shrugged and nodded. Ginny opened her mouth as if to say something else, but then bit her lip and walked back to Dean.

Later that day, Harry stomped around his dormitory, trying not to think about what Ginny had told him at lunch.

 _Humph. Of course she wants to go to Hogsmeade with Dean. Why should she spend the day tailing Malfoy with me?_

 _Because she promised to, a little voice said._

Ginny and Harry had in fact agreed to watch Draco closely during the first Hogsmeade weekend, but if he was to be completely fair, they hadn't exactly agreed to watch him _together_. Even though he had tried to avoid looking, Harry hadn't missed the guilt trip Dean had laid on Ginny at lunch about wanting to spend more time with her; Harry had actually been enjoying watching her try to deflect Dean's pleas and he couldn't help but notice that she was avoiding his attempts to grab her hand. It was only when Ginny finally gave in that he had stopped watching.

Harry couldn't exactly blame the bloke for wanting to be with Ginny; he had discovered himself over the past few weeks that Ginny was a blast to be with. Even though he still had not been able to talk to her much about anything serious, like the prophecy, they had still managed to have a few conversations that centered on something other than the general. She was still insisting that he was acting as oddly as his friends, but Harry had been fairly successful at deflecting that conversation by continuing to promise to think about her theory. And he would, he promised himself, just not yet. Maybe after they had a chance to discuss the prophecy. But that wasn't all that was great about Ginny these days. Not only was she a great flyer, but she managed to diffuse a lot of tension at Quidditch practice by keeping up a running competition with her brother over who could best take the mickey out of the other over their respective snogging partners.

Not that Harry had exactly wanted to hear that Ron had caught Ginny and Dean behind a tapestry on the fourth floor. For some reason, the thought of Ginny kissing her boyfriend had become a source of strange feelings for Harry. These were quite different from all the other strange feelings he had been experiencing lately; but no less upsetting. He kept telling himself that he was most concerned about Ginny's well being as a surrogate older brother, and that was all there was to it. Which was why he had been particularly disconcerted to find himself daydreaming in the library about exactly how it would feel to pull her hair out of its usual ponytail and watch it fall around her shoulders.

Since that moment, Harry had been trying even harder to think charitable thoughts about Dean, a task made more difficult by the fact that the other boy never failed to make a cheeky comment around Harry about how he was doing such a good job as "over-protective git of a brother" in Ron's place. Harry was probably imagining it, but on one or two of those occasions he could have sworn that Ginny blushed, before giving Dean an exasperated look.

Harry pushed all that out of his mind. The best he had been able to get out of Ginny now was a promise to keep her eyes open for Malfoy as she walked around with Dean ( _Yeah, as if Draco is going to be hanging out in Madame Puddifoot's_ ), and a plan to meet up with Harry in the afternoon. He hadn't even had the chance to thank her for helping him last night; as muddled as his thoughts about the evening were, he was still pretty certain that he would not have made it up to bed in one piece without Ginny guiding him.

 _Oi, she must have seen me get sick. I probably need to apologize for that too._

Harry went to bed that night without plans to spend the following day in Hogsmeade with anyone. He had thought about asking Ron if he wanted to check out the new Wheezes branch with him, but he and Dean had come into the dorm that night deep in discussion about the most romantic places in the village, so Harry hadn't even bothered opening his mouth. He didn't need to see Ron quake in fear again, anyway.

The next morning, Harry pulled out the Map first thing, determined to figure out if Malfoy was going to the village or again doing something in the Room of Requirement. He didn't go down to breakfast until he saw Malfoy's dot there, sitting at the Slytherin table. Harry gulped down some toast, ignoring Ginny's apologetic gaze, Ron's fearful one, and Hermione's blank stare. Catching sight of Neville at the end of the table, Harry decided, on a whim, to talk to the boy.

It did not go well.

All Harry got from him was that he may or may not be going to Hogsmeade that day, and that, while there, he may or may not be stopping in at the Three Broomsticks for a drink or going to Honeydukes for sweets. Neville didn't really seem to want to talk to Harry at all, and Harry soon gave up. It ended up being a good thing that Neville did not want to talk; he might have missed Malfoy slipping out of the Great Hall without Crabbe and Goyle at their usual places by his side. Picking up his cloak, Harry quickly followed him towards the entrance to the castle, where Filch was waiting to check students out for the day.

Hours later, Harry left Professor Dumbledore's office feeling sick. Not because of any trip into the Pensieve this time, but because he was still in shock over what he had seen happen to Katie Bell.

 _Harry was having a difficult time tailing Malfoy in Hogsmeade, and he found himself annoyed more than once that Ginny had left him to go be with Dean. It was cold and windy and the village was crowded; a second person would have been helpful for keeping the Slytherin in view. As it was, Harry had to keep ducking into alleys and shops to hide; Draco seemed to guess that he was being followed and weaved in and out of the crowds and into shops without any apparent agenda. Twice he had stopped and peered through the windows of particularly crowded stores, as if looking for something, or someone. Each time, he had shaken his head and continued on down the street._

 _After almost two hours of fruitless tailing, Harry saw Malfoy look carefully around, pull his cloak tightly around himself, and duck into the Three Broomsticks. Fortuitously, Ginny and Dean appeared in the street in front of the pub only moments later, and Harry hurried to them, intent upon asking Ginny to please take ten minutes to help him._

 _But Ginny seemed embarrassed to find Harry there. "I, I can't right now, Harry," she said, blowing her breath onto her red hands to warm them. "Dean and I, well, we have somewhere to be."_

 _As if to prove her point, Dean grabbed Ginny's hansd tightly in both of his and began rubbing them together himself, his lips a tight line. Harry wouldn't let himself be distracted by the sight. Malfoy had been acting oddly all day and it looked like Harry was finally going to be able to figure out what he was doing. Let Ginny hang out with Dean, if he thought too much about her now, he'd lose his chance to catch Draco. Without another word, he turned and walked into the pub. It must have been his imagination that Ginny looked upset._

 _But inside the Three Broomsticks, Malfoy was nowhere to be found. Harry didn't want to arouse suspicion by asking if anyone had seen him; it was quite possible that he had slipped out the back door during the precious seconds that he had been talking to Dean and Ginny. Harry checked the gents' loo, just to be sure Malfoy wasn't there, and then followed Katie Bell as she left the ladies', walking out of the pub just behind her and one of her friends._

Back in Dumbledore's office, Harry had continued to relate what had happened next. He had seen Katie and her friend arguing over what looked like a small package and then watched as it opened up and something glittering fell to the ground. Katie had risen strangely into the air and begun screaming, an otherwordly sound that had made Harry's blood run cold. Seconds later, Ginny and Dean had appeared from the woods and run to get help.

Now Katie was in St. Mungo's barely clinging to life after being cursed by the necklace that had been in the package. No one knew where it had come from. In front of Professors McGonagall, Slughorn and Snape, Harry had kept his suspicions about Draco to himself, although he thought it was quite obvious that Draco's mysterious behavior had been caused by his attempts to find someone to whom he could pass the necklace. Harry had recognized it laying in the snow as the same one he had seen in Borgin and Burke the day he, Ron and Hermione had tailed Malfoy there.

It was quite late by the time the professors had finally finished questioning Harry and let him leave. At that point, all he wanted was to get to his dorm, pull the curtains around his bed, and be alone to think. He was quite unprepared to see Ginny, sitting alone in the common room, apparently waiting for him.

His first instinct was to be mad. If she had not insisted on spending the entire day with Dean, maybe they could have figured out exactly what Malfoy was doing. But before he could say a word, Ginny ran to him, wringing her hands.

"How's Katie? Is she going to be okay? Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault, I should have been there to help you." Ginny was speaking so fast that Harry could barely follow her words. But his anger disappeared in an instant at the sight of her stricken face.

"Katie was very lucky," he told her. "She had a tiny rip in one of her gloves, so her skin barely touched the necklace. Any more and she would have died instantly. Right now they think she is going to be okay, although she has to stay at St. Mungo's for a while."

"But if I had been helping you like I promised, she probably wouldn't have gotten the necklace at all," broke in Ginny.

As she spoke, the image of Ginny rubbing her hands together for warmth came to Harry's mind. He felt the air go out of his lungs as if he had been hit in the gut with a Bludger.

"No . . ." he said slowly, his voice suddenly shaking. "She wouldn't have gotten the necklace." He looked at Ginny, relief flooding his eyes at the sight of her standing there, unharmed. "You would have, instead. Katie . . . she got the necklace from someone in the bathroom – that's all she told her friend Leanne. I checked the gents' for Malfoy and you would have looked in the women's room if you'd been there." Impulsively, he grabbed Ginny's hands, looking down at them. They were warm now. "But you weren't wearing any gloves."

Ginny's face blanched as she understood the implications of what Harry was saying. She swallowed hard, seemingly trying to regain her train of thought.

"But . . . still . . . I should have . . ."

"No!" said Harry sharply. "Don't blame yourself. I'm sorry for Katie but . . . I'm really glad it wasn't you."

He suddenly realized he was still holding her hands, and dropped them, a blush darkening his features.

"Anyway," he continued, not looking Ginny in the eye, "you were with Dean. It wasn't fair of me to interfere with the time you had to spend with him."

Even though Harry hated every word he said, his relief was stronger than the strange feelings he had whenever he thought of Ginny and Dean together. _If not for her wanting to be with him this afternoon . . ._ The thought was too horrible for Harry to continue.

"Oh, well, yeah, there is that." Ginny suddenly seemed uncomfortable.

Harry took a deep breath. _Might as well start acting like the good 'big brother' I guess I'm meant to be. And I really do owe Dean one, this time_. "We'll just have to figure out a better way to watch Malfoy without you having to give up all your time with your boyfriend." The word felt bitter in Harry's mouth.

"Well, no," said Ginny. "Actually, I'm going to have a lot more free time now, it seems."

Harry finally looked up at her. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

Ginny gave him a sad smile. "I mean, I broke up with Dean tonight, after we got back from Hogsmeade. When you saw us, in front of the Three Broomsticks, we were already having a row."

Harry froze, trying to get his head around this information. "Why?" he asked, before he could stop himself. "I mean, I'm sorry." He could hear it in his voice: he didn't sound sorry at all.

He didn't know if Ginny could hear it too, but she gave him a slightly less sad smile. "Thanks, Harry. It was a lot of things. He wanted to be with me every second, he was getting really patronizing about my helping you watch Malfoy, he wouldn't let me be myself." She shook her head to herself. "He just wasn't . . . right, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," said Harry, probably a little too forcefully. He was suddenly in a really good mood. "But still, I am sorry." He gave her a rueful grin. "And it's probably going to be pretty depressing in my room when I go up there, huh?"

Ginny sighed. "He'll get over it, I'm sure. And I think it's better that I'm not dating anyone right now – I'm so busy with OWLs and Quidditch anyway."

Harry was relieved to hear that Ginny did not have another boyfriend prospect on her mind. _Now Ron and I can relax for a while._

"Yeah, well, I'd better let you go to sleep. Quidditch practice tomorrow, you know? After all, the first game is only a week away."

Ginny saluted him cheekily. "Yes sir, Captain,"

Harry grinned back at her. "And I'm expecting no less than fifteen goals from you, Miss Weasley."

Ginny saluted again. "Night, Harry. I promise I'll be around more to help with Malfoy now."

Harry smiled. "Only if you want to, Ginny. Not because you feel guilty about Katie or anything."

Ginny blushed suddenly. "It's okay," she said. "I want to."


	8. The Evil Without

The day of the first Quidditch match of the season – between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw – dawned cloudy and cold. Harry would have liked to bolt down his breakfast and spend some time alone before meeting the team in the changing rooms, but he knew, as captain, he couldn't shut himself away. _Time to go be a leader._

He smiled bracingly at new Beaters Jimmy Peakes and Richie Coote, who were sitting at the breakfast table, looking rather green at the thought of playing in their first match. Harry remembered back to his first year, sitting just as Jimmy and Richie were, wishing it was all over, or, even better, that he could stuff himself with sausages like Ron and go sit in the stands to cheer. He patted Richie on the back with what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"You'll feel much better once you're in the air," he said to the boys. Both nodded wordlessly, not looking at all convinced.

Ginny and Demelza were sitting with Capella Song, a tiny third year girl Harry had found to replace Katie until she recovered. 'Pella had missed the original try-outs while in a detention for Snape after he berated her for turning in an essay written on a stained piece of parchment. The criticism might have only earned her a couple lost points for Gryffindor, but 'Pella decided to spare the House by telling the Potions master that she believed the stains to be grease from his own hair. That comment earned her an entire morning cleaning out caldrons used by the fifth years to brew Rotting Solutions. Harry had liked her at once, particularly because she had out-flown Dean fair and square at the retrial.

Now the three Chasers were all sitting together, chattering excitedly to each other. None of them looked the slightest bit nervous, and Ginny returned Harry's grin with her own look of eager anticipation. Then she smirked.

"Ron's in the middle of his normal pre-game routine," she announced. "Throwing up in the boy's loo." She smirked again. "I think he finally found one activity that 'Lav Lav' doesn't want to share."

"As long as he's better by game time, I don't care if he's eating a hippogriff right now," returned Harry. He sat down next to Ginny and piled some eggs on his plate, mentally congratulating himself for handling his Captaincy so smoothly.

An hour later, Harry was not feeling so smug.

Ron showed up in the changing rooms, still pale, just as Harry was helping Ginny adjust her wrist guards so they did not dig into her palms. She was standing very close, and he was acutely aware that his hands were trembling slightly as his thumb brushed across the back of her hand. _Pull it together, Potter!_ Strange, but not at all unpleasant thoughts were suddenly swirling through his brain. Thoughts that involved Harry holding Ginny's hands for a bit longer, or steadying her as she mounted her broom . . .

 _Since when does Ginny need help getting on her broom? What's wrong with me?_

Harry shook his head, trying to focus on tightening the last strap on the wrist guard. He didn't even notice when Ron finally appeared.

As soon as Ron saw the two of them together he froze.

"Ginny!" he hissed, as though Harry could neither see nor hear him standing right there. As he caught Harry's eye, Ron seemed to change his mind about what he was going to say next, and instead tried to grab his sister's arm. "I can do that."

Ginny pulled her arm away. "It's _fine_ Ron," she said, letting a bit of annoyance seep into her words. "We're finished anyway." Giving Ron, and, for some reason, Harry, exasperated looks, she walked off to the girls' side of the changing rooms for her robes.

Harry watched her go. _What the hell did I do?_ He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, aware of the mental war taking place in his head. Part of him knew that it would be a bad idea to turn to look at Ron, right now. Ron would no doubt have that irritating look of fear plastered back on his face, and be spouting off about how dangerous Harry was and how he needed to stay away from Ginny. It would not do for Harry to get in a row only minutes before the first Quidditch game of the season.

The other part of his brain was simply furious. _Put Ron in his place and tell him you can be close to his sister all you want! Tell him to stay out of your business! Tell him to get his arse on his broom and in the air before you hex him!_ That thought made Harry feel good . . . hexing Ron. There had to be one that would teach him to leave Harry alone and still allow him to play Keeper . . .

Harry lost part of the battle and looked up to glare at Ron, who was standing stock still, wearing the exact look on his face that Harry had imagined.

"Crimey, Ron! Are you a Pygmy Puff or a Gryffindor? Now pull it together or I'll have to replace you."

For a second, Ron actually looked relieved. Then he glanced towards the girls' changing room and squared his shoulders.

"Nothing doing. I'm playing." He looked over to the girls' side again.

Harry took a deep breath. Then another. Half his team was playing in their first match ever, and it would not do to upset them any more. He clenched his hands into fists at his side and forced his voice into a normal pitch. Channeling Oliver Wood as best he could, he plastered an encouraging and determined look onto his face.

"Okay, gather round, everyone. We've got a great team, we've practiced our arses off, we're better than Ravenclaw, and I know we can do this!" He said the last almost at a yell, infusing as much enthusiasm into his words as he could. It seemed to work because the rest of the team (minus Ron, he noted with irritation) cheered along with him and slapped hands before mounting their brooms and flying out the door of the changing room.

Annoyed as he already was, Harry couldn't resist bumping the back of Ron's broom a bit as he streaked past him when their team was announced. Ron whirled around and gave him a panicked look as if he expected Harry to knock him straight off his broom.

 _As if I would do that. Don't have a reserve Keeper. I'd probably have to end up using Dean or something._

Harry had not had too much time to reflect on the recent events concerning Dean and Ginny. Dean had studiously ignored him in their dormitory; all teasing remarks about Harry acting as surrogate big brother were history. Once or twice, Harry had been certain that Dean was staring at him and Ginny while the two of them sat in the common room or at a meal, discussing the upcoming Quidditch Match or pouring over the Marauder's Map looking for Malfoy, but the other boy had not said anything directly about the break-up. Ginny had been equally quiet after her initial confession to Harry about why she had ended things. Even though part of him thought it might be the normal, friendly thing to do to ask her about it, or at least inquire as to how she was doing, Harry held back. He really didn't want to know. What if she was regretting her decision? What if she thought Harry was prying? Or worse, trying to hit on her himself?

 _But why is that worse? I couldn't be any more annoying than Dean, could I? I mean, if I felt that way about Ginny. Which I don't._

It was better just to say nothing at all. The only negative to the break-up (in Harry's mind, at least), was that he was no longer sharing secret commiseration with Ron. If anything, Ron had taken the break-up worse than his sister had. He had been close to horrified that first night when all five of them were in their dormitory trying to comfort Dean in the only way blokes could, by slapping him on the back and telling him to get out there and find a new bird (well, that last was only from Seamus.)

But Ron went another way, telling Dean that he was sure Ginny would get over whatever made her break up with him, and that he shouldn't just let her go. For a long bit there, Harry had been worried that Ron was going to take Dean right there and march him back to Ginny so that he could beg himself into her good graces.

Ron must have said something to Ginny the next day because Harry later saw her talking earnestly to Dean in the Great Hall before lunch. His heart had plummeted oddly into his stomach as he watched them out of the corner of his eye, pretending to tie his shoe, adjust his books in his bag, scratch his head idly as if he couldn't remember where he needed to be, anything, until he finally saw Ginny shake her head and give Dean a sad smile before walking off. Harry supposed he should feel bad for the other boy, but the slump of Dean's shoulders had somehow made Harry's own feel lighter than ever . . .

AND SEEKER - CAPTAIN HARRY POTTER!

The sound of cheering broke Harry out of his reverie and he realized that he had just been announced to the crowd. He flew a quick circle around the pitch, checking to see that each player was in their correct starting position before flying down to the ground to shake hands with the Ravenclaw captain and Madame Hooch.

Once the game started, Harry flew lazy passes back and forth, high in the air, keeping one eye open for the Snitch, and the other on his team.

The Chasers worked seamlessly, passing the Quaffle back and forth to each other as if they had been flying together for years and not just days. Capella scored almost immediately, and Luna's dreamy voice from the announcer's box startled Harry. _When did she become commentator?_

It was the same old Luna, though. "What an interesting move by that Gryffindor player, she's streaking through the sky on her broom like a . . . star or something. Well, that makes sense. Her name is Capella, I'm told. She's a star in the Auriga constellation, and her name means 'she-goat'. Auriga can be seen during odd-numbered months from the Southern Hemisphere. Daddy and I saw a particularly bright version of it when we were hunting for Tri-winged Ziggers in Australia last . . ."

"Luna, please stick to the game, dear." Professor McGonnagal finally broke in to interrupt Luna's 'commentary'.

"Sorry, Professor, I just thought it was interesting. The Ziggers don't usually have three sets of wings, you know."

Harry grinned to hear his friend. And while she had been talking, Ginny had managed to score twice.

Harry drifted towards the Gryffindor goal as the action moved in that direction, watching as the Beaters worked to keep the Bludgers away from their teammates. Coote and Peakes were not quite as effective as the Chasers, but they managed to keep the worst hit Bludgers away from the other Gryffindors. Harry relaxed a bit and began to focus more fully on finding the Snitch when a voice below him interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey!"

 _What, Ron wants to talk now?_

Harry dipped his broom and dropped lower so he could glower at his Keeper.

"What, Ron?" Harry didn't even bother to try to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Luckily the action had moved back towards the Ravenclaw goal. Harry sucked in his breath as a Bludger skimmed by Ginny's arm, knocking the Quaffle out of her hand. Fortunately, it was picked up by Demelza, who flew rapidly towards the goal.

After determining that Ginny was fine, Harry looked back at Ron, expecting the other boy to be equally relieved that his sister had not been hurt. But Ron wasn't paying any attention to the game. Instead, he was still looking at Harry, his face a mix of his usual fear and something else – a determination Harry had not seen in a while.

"What is it, Ron?" Harry tried again. "If you haven't noticed, we're kind of in the middle of something important right now."

"And my sister's well-being isn't important?" Ron looked like he wanted to throw-up again, but his expression was even and he kept his eyes fixed firmly on Harry.

"What are you talking about?" Harry could not imagine what Ron wanted to discuss _right now._ The anger he had been trying to control all morning flared up inside him and he started towards Ron. At that moment, a blue and bronze blur streaked towards the goal; one of the Ravenclaw Chasers had gotten the Quaffle.

Ron did not have enough time to readjust his position on his broom, and the player scored easily. A quarter of the watching crowd groaned.

"Oh!" cried Luna. "I think that Wrackspurt got to the Gryffindor Keeper. Or else he was entranced by the moves of that Ravenclaw. He seemed to be imitating the mating ritual of the cool-blooded Mallomuff. Funny, I thought Ron Weasley fancied Hermione Granger."

Even from his position way above the pitch, Harry could hear Lavender Brown's indignant cry from the stands. He didn't have time to find Hermione before Luna continued, her voice suddenly sounding much more grounded.

"It's interesting that Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter has been spending the majority of his time in discussion with his Keeper; usually one sees Seekers flying in complicated formations over the top of the action, looking for the Snitch. It will be interesting to observe whether his new strategy works."

Harry gaped towards the commentator's booth, hearing the rumbling of the crowd below as well; no one could believe that Luna had made such a logical and understandable statement about the game. _Where had that come from?_

But then Ginny appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the Quaffle, just as Ravenclaw was about to score again. Before wheeling around and heading back down the pitch, she hissed at Harry, "Get going and look for the Snitch!"

"See?" Ron's voice was back. "She's too focused on you now and she's gonna get hurt!" Ron's eyes were dilated with panic.

Harry could not believe they were having this conversation in the middle of the match. "She's focused on me because she, unlike you, realizes that I should be looking for the Snitch and not having a discussion with my Keeper about how mental he's become!" His fury at Ron was building. _What exactly did he want Harry to do?_

As if reading his thoughts, Ron yelled at him, "You're the reason she broke up with Dean! You've convinced her that you have some noble mission she needs to help you with. Stay away from her before she ends up like Katie!"

 _"No!" Harry roared. His hands were clenched tightly around his broom as he zoomed towards the goals. How dare Ron think he would ever do anything to hurt Ginny? And Katie was not his fault – it was Malfoy, he was sure of it._

Ron seemed to realize that he'd gone too far. His face was a frozen mask of fear as he stared at Harry zooming towards him. But suddenly, here came all the other players too. Griffindor had scored twice more, but now Ravenclaw had the Quaffle again.

Harry put on a burst of speed and rose out of the way just in time for Ron to miss the Quaffle off the ends of his fingertips. It flew through the center hoop and Harry heard Ginny yell at her brother. Her voice calmed Harry for a moment until her eyes met his in an angry glare. She jerked her head away from Ron as if to tell him to get moving.

And he did. Flying with a singular purpose, not bothering to try to contain the fury that threatened to overtake him, Harry streaked around the pitch, his eyes combing the air for a hint of gold, all the while berating Ron in his mind.

 _Who the hell does he think he is? Tiptoeing around me for the past four months, scared of his own shadow, and now he picks the middle of a Quidditch game to have a go at me?_

Harry let himself get worked up, reliving all the scared looks Ron had given him, remembering that his friend had never once asked him about Sirius.

 _And saying Ginny broke up with Dean because of me – what does that mean? Ron didn't like them dating any more than I did! If he was a good friend, he'd want me to date her instead. But no, I'm too dangerous. I can't be trusted, I'm mental for suspecting Draco, I'm just good for getting everyone into dangerous situations!_

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he was on top of the Snitch until it practically hit him in the face. He grabbed it in his hand and zoomed towards the ground, his mind whirling with anger.

The Ravenclaw Seeker thought Harry was feinting for a moment, and followed him into his dive to make sure he hadn't seen anything. It was only when Harry got close to the ground and tossed the Snitch to Madame Hooch did everyone watching realize that Gryffindor had just won.

The players in the air had barely registered the end of the game when Harry came barreling back into their midst, heading straight for Ron. He could barely see where he was going, white-hot fury coursed through him as he focused on the horror and fear on his friend's face.

Ron spun around on his broom and took off, climbing higher and higher as he moved away from the stadium, trying to get away from Harry. Back in the commentator's booth Luna was telling the crowd that the two Gryffindors were performing the ritual celebratory fly first seen over a thousand years earlier after the conclusion of an eight-day match between Roman and Corsican wizards. But Harry and Ron were already too far away to hear.

Harry was gaining; Ron could hear him urging his Firebolt to go faster and faster. As he approached the back of Ron's Cleansweep, he yelled out, "Why are you running, Ickle Ronniekins? Scared I might give you a boo boo?"

Ron's head whirled around and he paled to see how close Harry was to him. "Stay away from me! You're crazy!"

His own eyes widened in horror as he caught sight of Harry's. For a long moment, they gleamed red, as Harry pulled his wand out of his robes and leveled it at Ron.

"Avia Sluggishia!" The spell came, not from Harry, as Ron had expected, but from Ginny, who was suddenly beside them on her own broom, wand out, her hair wild around her face. She looked into Harry's eyes for the briefest moment and then knocked his arm out of the way so that the stunner he was sending missed Ron's shoulder by inches. Ron shuddered. If Harry's spell had hit its mark, Ron would have fallen off his broom.

But Harry was falling back. Ginny's spell seemed to have slowed his broom as if it was suddenly flying through mud. She wheeled around and flew back towards him, pointing her wand at him. "Don't make me hex you, Harry. Put it down!" she screamed. Looking over her shoulder at her brother, she said, "Get to the ground and get out of here. I'll take care of Harry. Don't tell anyone what happened."

Ron started to protest. _She can't be serious._ "Ginny, he tried to kill me, just now! I knew this was going to happen – he's crazy! I'm not leaving you alone with him!"

"Ron, it's fine. He's not mad at me like he is at you. Just, go. And . . . tell Hermione, if you can get her alone. But no one else. We'll be back soon, I promise."

Ron sputtered. "What, you're taking his side? Ginny, what has he done to you? He probably hexed you or . . . or worse." Ron's mind was suddenly frantic. _Could Harry have put Ginny under the Imperius Curse?_ He peered at her eyes. They seemed to be clear and focused. And worried. And angry. Ron definitely recognized the angry. He sighed in relief. At least it wasn't an Unforgivable. _But, he just tried to kill me!_ He couldn't get his head around that. His best mate! It was incomprehensible.

Ginny's voice was more soothing. "Ron, I promise, I'll work it out. Just give me some time. I won't let anything happen to me, I promise."

Harry had drifted even lower now. He was so far away that Ron couldn't see the look on his face, but he didn't have his wand out anymore. He considered for a second. Ginny was the only one who had been able to get through to Harry, all this time. He hadn't even tried to hex her when she interfered with his trying to kill Ron; all his energy had been channeled away from her. Ron sighed, then gave in.

"Fine, Ginny. But if he tries anything funny, hex him and come find me immediately."

Ginny nodded, and Ron turned his broom and headed back towards the pitch, hoping to Merlin that his sister knew what she was doing.

Ginny watched as her brother flew away, and then turned her attention to Harry, far below her now. Even as she watched, he landed and climbed off his broom, sinking to the ground and putting his head in his hands.

Ginny hit the ground and dropped her broom to the side as she approached Harry. She kept her wand out, just in case. Even though she was nearly positive Harry would not try to hurt her (he didn't even have his own wand out), she had promised Ron she'd be cautious.

He shifted a bit, wrapping his arms around his knees and hiding his face. Ginny watched Harry's shoulders shake, wondering what exactly to say to him. But before she could open her mouth, he mumbled, without looking up, "You were right."

Ginny treaded cautiously. "About what, Harry?"

He looked up then. His face was stained with tears and his eyes were their normal green again, but rather dimmed. "About me. There's something wrong with me. I . . . I tried to bloody kill my best friend! And I really wanted to, Ginny, and I don't know why. I didn't care about anything else except making him scared. Making him hurt. If I had just listened to you earlier . . ." His eyes begged her to help him. "What's going on, Ginny? Cause I can't stand this anymore." He swallowed hard and hugged his knees so tightly his entire body trembled.

Ginny stared, shocked. For all the years she had been watching Harry, she had never seen him cry. She couldn't even have imagined him letting his guard down that way; even when Sirius had died, Harry had stoically locked away his emotions and shared his true feelings with no one. He looked vulnerable and lost, huddled there on the ground, completely unsure about what to do. A part of her was relieved. _At least he realizes that it's not all Ron. But how to help?_

Harry just sat there, quietly. There was not even a hint of his previous fury and hatred. Nor was there the air of assuredness and instinct and leadership that she knew emerged whenever he was in danger. She had seen it in the Department of Mysteries and when he had fought the dragon during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She imagined that even at age 12, he had shown that gift down in the Chamber. But now all she could see was the small boy she had been imagining in her mind ever since she had learned about the Dursleys and how they treated him.

He looked up at her again, tears still slipping down his cheeks, Ginny still had no idea what to say, but she at least knew what to do. Harry was not dangerous right now. Stowing her wand, the closed the space between them and dropped to her knees. At the last moment, she pulled back from the hug she planned to give him and instead put her hands on each of his shoulders, squeezing them, but half expecting him to freeze, or jerk away. She had never touched him so purposefully before.

He surprised her, immediately leaning back against her chest and almost throwing her off balance. Ginny dropped from her knees to a sitting position and wrapped her arms more firmly around Harry, listening as he tried to slow his ragged breath.

"Tell me what you remember," she said gently.

He took another deep breath. "It was like it's been all summer, when I'm around Ron," he said. "But much, much worse. Every time I saw the fear on his face, I just got angrier at him. At first, I tried to control it – I needed to focus on the game. I knew it. Knew I shouldn't even look at him. But then, he started talking, and he wouldn't shut up, and he was accusing me of trying to hurt you, and everyone and I just couldn't get away from his voice." Harry stopped then, and looked at Ginny with scared eyes.

"I didn't mean to do it Ginny, I swear. Ron . . . he's my best mate, he's like my brother . . . And I've been terrifying him for months and I don't know why. I would never hurt him. You've got to believe me." Harry was pleading with her now; he had turned himself in her arms so she could see his eyes. They were wide and desperate, and filled again with unshed tears.

Ginny thought for a moment. The Harry she was talking to right now was obviously not angry at her brother. He could talk about Ron without getting mad, and his reaction on the pitch had obviously scared him enough to break through his blindness to his own actions. An idea flitted at the edge of her brain, but before she could focus on it fully, Harry spoke again.

"I don't know why I'm so angry at him – it's like I'm not myself . . . When I was flying at him, I felt like someone else had taken over my brain."

Harry didn't need to explain to Ginny what he meant. She shivered, remembering the look in his eyes, his _gleaming red eyes,_ as he had pulled out his wand.

But she couldn't tell him that. Not now, before they understood more about what was going on. And anyway, she wasn't sure that was the right conclusion.

"I don't think you're being possessed, Harry," she finally said. Harry sagged a little in relief at her words, making her feel guilty that she wasn't going to tell him what she had seen. _How come he's so willing to believe me? What do I know of Dark Magic?_

But the answer was obvious. Ginny knew exactly why Harry would believe her that he wasn't being possessed, when he probably would brush off anyone else.

"It's not the same, is it?" he whispered. "When you . . ."

"Not the same at all," said Ginny, more firmly than she felt. "I had no idea what was going on for long periods of time. You have been fully aware of everything you're doing, right?"

Harry suddenly got a scared look in his eyes and Ginny sucked in her breath. There was something he wasn't telling her. "Or do you have blank spots?" She asked sharply.

Harry shook his head slowly. "Not . . . blank," he said finally. "But, after you put that spell on my broom, and I was drifting, I started seeing . . . other things, again. The Department of Mysteries. Voldemort was in my head. I saw all of you, fighting the Death Eaters, getting hit with curses. Sirius kept falling through the veil. But this time, I couldn't get him out. Voldemort, I mean. He wouldn't leave like he did when it happened for real. I was thinking of Sirius, of being able to see him again if I died, and I was so worried that the rest of you were hurt, or . . . or worse, but still, Voldemort wouldn't leave. I think he's putting visions in my head again, Ginny. I think he's trying to tell me something, or get me to do something. I just can't tell what it is!" He said this last in a broken sob, the fear showing plainly on his face. Ginny's heart went out to him.

"Have you told Dumbledore?"

Harry frowned. "No," he said slowly. "He's been kind of . . . distant, I think. Even during our meetings. Remember how he didn't want to talk about Malfoy?"

The thought that had been sitting at the edges of Ginny's brain suddenly burst through, bright and clear. Something she had not been able to figure out made sense, and she looked at Harry, a sense of purpose on her face.

"Harry, have you noticed that you only get really upset with Ron, and that he's only scared when you're close by? Or, that Hermione seems to be able to study when you aren't in the library or in class with her?" Ginny was warming to her idea. "Or . . . Luna! During the match today she was busy educating all of us about the stellar position of a she-goat until she had to give commentary about you and then she suddenly sounded like the Quidditch reporter for the Daily Prophet!"

Harry gaped at her. "And Neville can barely look me in the eye, he wants to ignore me all the time."

"But he's been fine around me and Ron and Hermione!" finished Ginny with a flourish. She was suddenly excited. They were getting somewhere.

But Harry was even more distressed. "So it _is_ me, Ginny. There's something wrong with me that's making all my closest friends pull away. And if I get too close, I get dangerous." He looked wildly at her. "I have to stay away. From everyone."

Ginny's heart broke. Harry had spent his entire life worrying about keeping his friends safe. And they had always stood by him anyway, totally willing to put themselves in the path of danger because it was the right thing to do and because they believed in him that much. Harry had felt that he had no choice, but Ginny knew that the rest of them felt that way as well – the thought of letting Harry face his demons alone was never an option. For any of them.

And though he protested, deep down, Ginny knew Harry was truly grateful to have them at his side when he faced danger. He relied on their presence in his life. Having to separate himself for their own good would BE HORRIBLE. Ginny wanted to comfort him, and said the first thing that popped into her head.

"Well, you don't have to stay away from me."

Harry looked up at her, a mixture of such relief and thankfulness on his face that this time Ginny did throw her arms around him to assure him she wasn't going anywhere. Harry froze for a moment, and then hugged her back. They stayed that way for longer than Ginny would have expected, given that she had never done anything close to hugging Harry before. But then, the boundaries between them seemed to have fallen away at a rapid rate in the past hour. She was suddenly acutely aware that she was the only person Harry could be near right now, and the weight of that realization scared her. She was still getting used to spending time around Harry as someone other than Ron's little sister, and now it looked like if she wasn't with him, he would have to be entirely alone.

She was still holding him in her arms while her thoughts swirled. Oddly, it did not become awkward or uncomfortable to remain like that, on the ground, sort of holding each other up. It was nice, actually. How many years had she spent pining away over an idealized version of The Boy Who Lived - what she would have given then to hold him in her arms, or be held by him? And now that it was real (albeit, completely different from her ridiculous fantasies), she couldn't help wishing that she had been able to overcome her blushing and stammering and elbow-buttering years earlier. She had had a better talk with him in the past hours than she had with Dean the entire time they had been going out. And Michael Corner . . . Ginny shuddered to remember. Which didn't go unnoticed by Harry.

He sat up, suddenly. "I'm sorry, are you cold? We've been out here for ages. What time do you think it is?"

Ginny looked at the sun. "Mid afternoon, I think."

"I made you miss lunch!" Harry was nothing if not attuned to the sensitivities of a Weasley stomach.

"That's okay," Ginny said honestly. "We've had important things to talk about."

Harry looked down at the ground for a moment. "I've piled a lot on you today, haven't I?"

"They're things that affect both of us, no, _all_ of us," said Ginny firmly. "And we have to figure out what's going on and how to fix it."

"How are we going to do that? All we know is that when I get too near my friends, except you, we all go mental, somehow." He pushed himself to a sitting position. "And I can't even ask Hermione if she's ever heard of a spell that would do something like that, cause every time I get near her, she acts as though she's never been near a library in her life!" Harry jumped up and started pacing. He looked beseechingly at Ginny.

"Voldemort is putting thoughts in my head again, but these thoughts are poisoning everyone that I'm closest to. He couldn't just stop with me, this time. He had to go after everyone I love too?" He yelled this up to the sky, and missed seeing Ginny blanch.

 _Well, that explains why I'm not affected. He obviously doesn't feel the same way about me as he does about the rest._

Even though she had known it was the truth, it still hurt to hear him say it so casually. _I love them. I don't love you._ Ginny drew in a deep breath. _This is no time for self-pity, Genevra, Harry needs you, no matter how he feels._

Harry was still pacing, muttering to himself. "I have to block it, somehow. Keep it from . . . but is it the same? I don't know if I can." He suddenly looked up at Ginny. "You have to help me with my Occlemency."

Ginny had spent enough time around Harry and Snape in Grimmauld Place last year to know what Occlemency was. She still remembered overhearing Lupin and Sirius yelling at Harry that he could not quit practicing the skill that helped one lock his or her thoughts away from others.

"Do you think it will help?"

Harry grimaced. "I really don't know. And even if it does, I was rubbish at it. But I have to do something. And trying to keep my bad and odd thoughts away from Ron and Hermione and the rest is the only thing I can think of, right now."

Ginny nodded. "I may not be Hermione, but I can at least try to find a book on Occlemency in the library."

Harry gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks Ginny . . . I don't know what I'd do without you, right now."

Ginny tried to keep her voice light as she responded, "Oh, don't worry, as soon as we get everyone back to normal, I promise not to be a fourth wheel or anything."

She was shocked to see a look of true pain cross his face. "Ginny . . ." he began, "you don't think I'm hanging around with you just because I make everyone else mental . . .do you?"

She couldn't hide the look on her face that told Harry that was exactly what she was thinking. He stopped pacing and sat down next to her again, grabbing her by the shoulders.

"Ginny . . . you've believed in me this whole time, even when it was obvious to you that I was acting as crazy as your brother. And . . . just because right now it looks like you might be the only one I can be around, that doesn't mean I wouldn't want to be around you anyway." Harry looked at her seriously. "Okay?"

"Okay," said Ginny in a small voice. She really wanted to believe him, wanted to feel like she was important in his life. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I believe you, Harry, I really do."

Harry gave her a small grin. "You've believed me all along, Ginny. I can't even begin to tell you what that means to me. I hope that if you ever need it, I can be there for you." His smile faded a bit. "I seem to be pretty good at chasing off boyfriends for you. Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. It was happening anyway. You were just looking out for me."

Harry inexplicably frowned at what she'd meant as a kind of thank you. "Yeah, anytime, I guess."

Harry was quiet for so long that Ginny worried for a moment if he was having another vision. When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet, Ginny had to lean even closer to hear it.

"I've been trying to get you alone for weeks now, because there's something else you need to know. Something really big." He swallowed. "It's about the prophecy."

Ginny was amazed. "You heard it? How?"

"Dumbledore had a memory. He showed me right after . . . well, at the end of last year."

"And are you? The Chosen One, I mean?"

"Yeah. Neither can live while the other survives. Either I kill him or he kills me. There is no other way." Harry said this last with such detachment that Ginny wondered if she'd heard him right. But it made sense. If she had to guess, he'd probably known the truth even before he knew that a prophecy existed.

Ginny suddenly understood so much more about Harry than she had even minutes before. He accepted it. His fate, his destiny, whatever you wanted to call it. He wasn't bitter or blaming or even angry, right now, although Ginny was sure he'd felt all those emotions at times. And she also knew why the loss of all his friends right now was such a blow.

All he wanted was a bit of normalcy, for as long as he could have it. People whose company he enjoyed, and who liked him right back. And now, that fucking bastard Riddle was taking even that away from him, interfering with the one thing that Harry needed the most


	9. Finding and Losing

Chapter 10: Finding and Losing

A/N: Here's the aftermath of last Chapter's big scene. And I've been told there should be an angst warning. So, be warned. There's also a missing moment I almost wrote as a stand-alone piece, but it fit here, so I used it. Finally, this chapter has a slight sexual situation - so if you avoid those things, be warned. It's pretty tame, although more is coming in later chapters.

Finding and Losing

Harry was still shaking by the time he made it up to his dormitory after leaving Ginny at dinner. His head was pounding from the effort of blocking his thoughts, but they were spinning out of control anyway. Over and over he replayed everything that had happened today: the moment he had attacked Ron; the visions that Voldemort was planting in his brain; his attempt to talk to Ron and Hermione before dinner without letting the . . . thing between them take control. It was too much to take in and he collapsed on his bed, wishing for a Dreamless Sleep Potion to take it all away. But that would mean going to the Hospital Wing, and although Madame Pomfrey was usually not too inquisitive, Harry would still have to give her some explanation, and he just didn't want to do that.

His mind went back again to the Quidditch match. The look of horror he remembered on Ron's face was nothing compared to the horror Harry felt at what could have happened if Ginny had not interfered. _What the hell was going on with him?_

So far, all he and Ginny had been able to figure out was that being close to Harry made all his closest friends go mental – and Harry now fully included himself in that category. It kind of seemed like they each were acting the opposite of their usual behavior, but that didn't seem quite accurate. Harry lay back on his bed, trying to remember something Ginny had said to him when they were still outside . . . something about Hermione and how they could have used her vast knowledge and research skills right now, if being around Harry didn't make her so scattered. He shook his head as the thought flitted away; the scene just now in the Great Hall had left him dizzy and drained.

Harry had been so desperate to try out Occlumency on his friends he didn't even stop to think before running up to Ron in the Great Hall, where he was sitting eating dinner with Lavender. Lavender was sitting so close to Ron they might as well have been fused together, and the hand that was not holding her fork was running through the back of his hair. Ron had an embarrassed, and yet pleased blush covering his face. Until he saw Harry. At the moment his entire demeanor changed, his face froze again in fear, and Harry felt the familiar anger course through him.

At his side, Ginny had murmured that maybe this wasn't a good idea, at least until he had practiced more, and feeling the hatred building inside him, Harry had almost agreed. But then he had remembered sitting on the ground with Ginny, and the pain of what he had almost done to his best friend overcame everything else.

He had tried. Really, he had. Summoning everything he could remember from his previous lessons with Snape, Harry had struggled to lock away the hate, and the disgust, and the rage he felt for Ron, and tried to focus on the fact that this was his best mate sitting there staring at him, terrified. For several moments, it had worked. The anger ebbed, and Ron's face had relaxed, almost imperceptibly at first, and then with relief. They had looked at each other, staring, and Harry had been about to just hold out his hand in apology, when Seamus had looked up and said, "Hey, Harry, where did streak off to after the game?

And just like that, Harry had remembered he was angry and Ron's face had tightened again and his eyes had grown wide and fearful. Harry's fists were already clenched and he was heading towards the table when Ginny had grabbed his arm and pulled. He was back in the entrance hall, breathing heavily, before she let go.

Laying on his bed now, Harry couldn't help but marvel, _Merlin, Ginny is strong. I never realized that before._

He had been depressed about his failure, but Ginny had actually been excited. "Harry, I think it can work!" she had said. "You blocked for your feelings without any practice, and in front of Ron! He's bound to be the hardest for you."

Harry had halfheartedly agreed. He'd wanted things back to normal so badly that anything less made the separation from his friends that much more acute. He had started to say goodbye, knowing that Ginny at least needed to go back into the Great Hall to eat. He'd be better off hiding from everyone in his dorm.

But Ginny had leaned in and given him a hug, letting her hand linger on his back for a second as she whispered into his ear. "It's going to be okay, Harry. I can feel it." And then she had stepped back and looked him in the eye.

"I know you probably want to shut yourself away because you think you're dangerous, but I know better. This . . . thing might be dangerous, but you're not. Not any more than you were last winter when Nagini attacked my dad and you spent two days locked in your room." She had stepped closer again, and Harry had had to resist the urge to lay his head on her shoulder and close his eyes, to feel her tangle her hand in the back of his hair like Lavender was doing to Ron . . .

 _That thought had been enough to make him take a big step back. I've taken so much already . . . I need to give her some space now._

So he had come up here, to Gryffindor Tower and gotten into his pajamas and set as many privacy charms as he knew around his bed. He was terrified he was going to attack Ron in the night.

 _I really should be practicing my Occlumency, emptying my mind and all that. Just like Snape taught me._

But Harry couldn't make his brain focus. Every time he tried to empty it, another thought from the day pushed its way through the halfhearted barriers he was trying to erect. Most of them were just painful. Ron's face, the Department of Mysteries, the sound of Luna being way too normal, the emptiness he'd felt when he realized he had to stay away from his friends. Ginny holding him while he cried . . .

 _Hmmmm._

Harry tested that one out. Gingerly, he let his mind go back over those minutes, expecting to any minute feel the wincing horror that characterized the rest of that day, but it didn't come. Instead, his mind moved next to the moments when he had held her hands in the changing room, the tingle that went through him, before Ron had come in and messed everything up.

 _Ouch._

Harry jumped away from that thought and looked for another – like the way they had suddenly been joking with each other as they walked back up to the castle, finally. Ginny's stomach had growled and he had teased her and they had both laughed and it had felt good to finally be able to feel normal for a minute. She had shown him a wooded shortcut up to the castle he had never known about and she had smirked and remarked that he obviously had not gotten that far with Cho then, and Harry understood from the privacy of the path what must usually happen there.

He thought of her with Dean, kissing, but it didn't hurt. Because she didn't want to go there with him anymore.

Harry skipped right over everything in the Great Hall automatically. He knew not to go there, but he couldn't help but remember the feel of Ginny's hand on his arm, pulling him away.

And then he remembered her last words to him. About not shutting himself away, like she knew he wanted to. That was the amazing part. She did know. Cause she'd been there the last time. When he'd thought he was too dangerous to be around anyone. He couldn't believe he had almost forgotten.

Harry rolled onto his back in bed, ready to lose himself in a memory he knew wouldn't cause him to ache with guilt or pain. Here was a good thought to fall asleep to – the last time Ginny had pulled him out of a funk. And maybe in the morning, he'd be ready to work with her on his Occlemency again.

They had talked seriously, once before. Several days before Christmas last year.

 _"I'm a prat, aren't I?"_

 _Harry was leaning against the doorframe of the room where Ginny slept in Grimmauld Place. His unsmiling face was both sheepish and resigned as he looked in at her._

 _Ginny knew immediately what he meant. "Well, yeah, a little," she answered._

 _Her honesty made Harry relax. Most other people would have told him not to worry about it, then mentioned how much else he had on his mind. He gave her a short, tight smile. "I guess I'm just not used to having anyone else out there who shares some of my weirder and darker quirks."_

 _Ginny raised her eyebrows. "And that's your apology? Telling me I'm weird?" Her voice was light, but there was a hint of something else in her words._

 _Harry sighed. He had bollocksed it up again. "No, that's not . . . I mean . . ." He broke off when Ginny smirked at him._

 _"It's okay, Harry. I know what you meant."_

 _"Do you?" As a rule, there were certain things Harry did not share with anyone. Not even Ron and Hermione. The connection between him and Voldemort made Ron nervous and made Hermione urge him to go to Dumbledore. Even though Harry himself didn't understand what was going on, he didn't want to be running to the headmaster every other minute, so these days he usually tried to keep his visions and scar twinges to himself. Of course, that plan had all gone to hell the moment he envisioned himself as an enormous snake, attacking Mr. Weasley. Ginny grimaced, then sighed. "The summer after my first year I was helping de-gnome the garden, and I scared up a garter snake. I could have sworn it glared at me before slithering away. I spent the rest of the summer hissing at every snake I saw, certain I was becoming a Parselmouth, or worse._

 _"Worse?" Harry had unconsciously moved into the room, and now he sat down at the end of Ginny's bed. She moved over to give him space, wrapping her arms around her knees._

 _"I was afraid to sleep much," Ginny admitted. "Being unconscious like that, even just to be asleep . . . I thought I might hurt someone again, and not know it."_

 _Without thinking, Harry put his hand on Ginny's arm. "You wouldn't have done that, you know. Tom was gone. And you . . . you're a good person, who could never, ever hurt anyone."_

 _Ginny sighed. "I know that, now. But at the time I didn't trust myself at all." She looked at Harry. "I mean, we all know that you would never hurt anyone, either, but that didn't stop you from thinking that you had become a giant snake and bitten my dad."_

 _Harry started at the comparison. She had a point. And she understood what he was feeling better than anyone else, that was certain. He looked Ginny in the eyes._

 _"Thanks, Ginny," he said quietly._

 _She smiled briefly and shrugged. "Yeah, well, having Voldemort in your brain isn't fun, no matter how it happens. Lucky us, I guess."_

 _Harry was impressed she'd said his name. He also felt guilty._

 _"Listen, Ginny . . . I'm sorry. That I didn't talk to you about all this before. And, well, that I sort of forgot about it."_

 _She smiled. "I know you're sorry. And you won't forget again." She gave him a pointed look._

 _"Right. Never again." He smirked. "I have a feeling you won't let me forget, anyway."_

 _She swatted his arm. "Not if you're being a prat, I won't."_

 _They were quiet for a minute. "So, are you?" Harry broke the silence. "A Parselmouth, I mean."_

 _Ginny shook her head. "I guess not. Other than that one snake, none of them ever seemed to pay any special attention to me."_

 _"That's good. It hasn't been a particularly useful gift. Other than the time I was able to set a giant boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley. Usually people just get really nervous about it."_

 _Ginny smirked. "Too bad you can't talk to spiders. You could have a lot of fun torturing Ron."_

 _Harry laughed. "Now that would be worth the weird looks."_

 _They were quiet again, a comfortable silence. Ginny shifted a bit on the bed. When she spoke, her voice was deliberately light and teasing._

 _"So, Harry . . . how's Cho?"_

 _He twisted sideways to gape at her, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He tried to play dumb._

 _"Uhh, what about her?"_

 _Ginny rolled her eyes. "Please, Harry. I, of all people, should know what it looks like when a girl fancies you. Cho couldn't stop staring all though our last D.A. meeting." She smirked. "Not to mention, I was in the Common Room when you came stumbling back to report to Ron and Hermione."_

 _Harry was gobsmacked. He didn't remember seeing Ginny that night. "You, you were there?"_

 _Ginny smirked again. "Don't worry. You had other things on your lips. . . I mean, your mind."_

 _Harry groaned and lay back on the bed. "So, does your entire family know?" He could just picture the twins taking the mickey out of him._

 _"I don't think so. That night was the night, well, you know."_

 _Harry remembered all too well what had happened later that night, when his dream about kissing Cho had suddenly dissolved and the vision of Nagini had taken its place. He sighed._

 _"I guess even normal teenage experiences aren't so normal for me."_

 _"Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure you'll have plenty more chances for that particular 'normal' experience."_

 _Harry sat up. "You think so? You don't think I messed things up too much with Cho? Hermione thinks I should have asked her out or something. I mean, if it was you, would you give me another chance?"_

 _Ginny gave Harry an odd look before her face relaxed into a smile. "Yes, Harry. I would definitely give you another chance." A pause. "And I'm sure Cho will too."_

 _"Well, that's a relief, I think." Thinking about Cho still gave Harry butterflies in his stomach._

 _Ginny laughed. "Boys," she muttered._

 _Downstairs, they heard Mrs. Weasley calling everyone to dinner._

 _Ginny unfolded herself from the bed. "I guess we'd better go down."_

 _Harry nodded. "Yeah. Might as well show everyone that I really am fine."_

 _Ginny smiled and put her hand on his arm. "You are fine, you know."_

 _"I know. But it's good to hear it from someone who really understands what it feels like to be . . . not so fine."_

Laying in bed, Harry groaned quietly to himself, although the silencing charms he had set should keep any of his roommates from hearing him. So much for thinking this memory wouldn't make him feel guilty.

He had actually asked her for advice on Cho! True, Ginny had brought her up first, but Harry now had enough perspective (and experience asking about Dean when he really didn't want to know), to realize that the last thing Ginny had really wanted to hear was that he fancied another girl.

But why? He'd told Hermione. No problem. Why should Ginny be any different? She was a friend. And, as he'd been telling himself for weeks, he was like an older brother.

Except, he wasn't.

Harry sat straight up in bed. He wanted to smack himself, but it apparently wasn't necessary anymore. Because he had just realized what his head had been trying to tell him for weeks now.

He fancied Ginny.

Of course he fancied her. Why else had he been so annoyed when she'd spent so much time with Dean? Even sitting alone in bed, Harry blushed to think of all the excuses he had come up with to justify his annoyance at that. Harry lay back down and closed his eyes, thinking.

 _The Amortentia. Before it began to smell bad. That flowery smell – it was her. And the way I like feeling her touch me. Definitely not the way it feels to have Hermione do the same._

Going further, Harry saw just how well Ginny understood him. Whether it was the shared experiences with Tom Riddle, or the fact that they both liked to do the same things or hang out with the same people, or the way she had been able to overcome her silly crush and become a good friend and make it feel so natural, Harry really didn't care.

It was obvious to him. He wanted to be with her. Not just because she believed all his suspicions about Draco, and not because she was the only one he could safely be around right now. But because she was Ginny. And, he fancied her. It just made sense.

In shock, Harry realized that he was suddenly aroused. It wasn't a totally foreign experience for him; he was a sixteen-year-old bloke, after all. But he was used to it happening first thing in the morning, and the thoughts and ideas that ran through his brain while he was in the shower taking care of . . . things, were usually of the nature of a nice, uniform-clad bum he might have seen in the hallway, or the slight curve of a chest as it strained against a jumper when a hand was raised in class, or the hint of what might be under the robes of one of the many nameless girls that Harry imagined roamed the corridors of Hogwarts. These girls were always fully clothed. And he'd never envisioned a single _face._

But suddenly, here was Ginny, smiling at him, running her hand across his cheek, pulling his face closer to hers and pressing their bodies together. Harry let his mind wander back to that afternoon, when he'd practically sat in her lap, but this time, instead of crying, he was kissing her . . .

And she was kissing him right back.

He pushed at the memory, thinking about those things he had missed the first time, in his grief - the way her legs felt, kind of tangled under his, the feel of her breath on his neck as he'd hid his head in her shoulder, the tightening of her arms around him.

Harry felt himself tightening then too, and he was seriously glad for all the privacy charms.

He supposed it should feel wrong, especially because a small part of him (the part he worked very hard not to let in past the walls he built in his mind), knew that Ron would be apoplectic if he know what Harry was thinking . . . let alone what Harry was doing. So he decided not to think of Ron at all. Probably a very good idea for a number of reasons. . .

She was beautiful, he could see that so clearly now. Beautiful and fun and funny and strong and perceptive. There was probably no way he could measure up, and yet, somehow he knew, there might be a chance there. It wasn't anything specific, just a feeling. And Merlin knows, he usually was so dense about these things. But maybe he knew more now because this was different.

It was a million times better than in the shower. Messier too, he thought wryly, reaching for his wand. But worth it. He supposed he should be embarrassed, that he had just, well, done that while thinking about his best mate's little sister. Who also happened to be one of his best friends. But he just couldn't dredge up any guilt or shame or anything.

It was better than a Dreamless Sleep Potion, actually.

Harry rolled over, exhausted now, idly thinking that tomorrow, he was going to have to find some way to tell Ginny, and find out if she felt the same way.

He could hardly wait.

Harry lifted the silencing charms quietly on Sunday morning, thankful he had not tried to off Ron in the night. Dreaming about Ginny was apparently a good tonic for his anger. He listened to the sounds of his roommates leisurely getting ready before daring to appear himself, but to his surprise, the conversation among the other four was light and casual – about the fact that Seamus thought the new Muggle Studies professor was attractive. Harry's absence was not commented on, and Ron's voice was calm and normal.

Harry was feeling a little less calm. The delight of discovering his feelings for Ginny last night had created a giddy assuredness that she would return the sentiment. This morning, he wasn't nearly as certain. While he had spent a good bit of the night enjoying physical pursuits, he had also taken time to catalogue every look, every touch that Ginny had given him over the past several weeks. He parsed her comments to him and compared them to the way she spoke to, say, Ron, or Jimmy Peakes. During the night, they all pointed to the same thing: Ginny fancied him too. This morning, Harry could imagine a million ways to logically interpret the looks and touches and comments – and 99.9 of them indicated much more benign emotions.

He sighed. At least he had not imagined Ginny telling him to find her this morning so that they could practice Occlumency. The optimist in him was excited at the prospect of being alone with her, and was hopeful for the talk that might ensue. The pessimist just laughed. _Of course she wants you to learn to block your thoughts. The sooner you do, the sooner she isn't stuck having to shield you from the world all the time._

He wouldn't allow himself to believe that. Hadn't she worried just yesterday that he only wanted to be around her because she was the only one he could be around? Nothing was further from the truth. He knew it. And soon, she was going to know it too.

Harry finally emerged from his self-imposed prison and ran through his morning routine as quickly as possible. He didn't even linger in the shower this morning; after last night, he didn't really need to, he thought wryly to himself.

Sunday breakfasts at Hogwarts were usually informal, late-starting affairs. Students wandered in and out, grabbing extra food to sneak into the library and making noisy plans with friends for later in the day. Most of the teachers didn't make regular appearances and there were never any announcements. Harry figured Ginny would be sitting with Demelza and Emma as usual; it would be easy to get her alone for a talk, particularly if she had already had time to eat. He bounced on the balls of his feet thinking of what he could say, while he stood in front of the mirror and wrestled with his hair.

Harry purposely dawdled a bit down to the Great Hall, wanting his dorm-mates to get a decent head start. When he finally got to breakfast, his eyes were immediately drawn to the red hair sitting in the middle of the table, bent over plates of food.

Yes, plates. Ginny was sitting right next to Ron, eating calmly and occasionally shaking her head, most likely at the fact that Lavender was on Ron's other side, feeding him bits of egg off her own fork. Harry did his best to ignore that nauseating sight and instead watched Ginny. Two younger Slytherins leaving the Great Hall gave him an odd look, and he hastily hardened his expression. He was sure he had had a silly grin on his face. It reminded him of how he'd felt those weeks last year when he was interested in Cho. Only this was different. It wasn't a stupid crush. And it wasn't with a girl who was totally wrong for him.

Harry waited for Ginny to look up and notice him, but she seemed quite intent on just eating. She was not looking around the room at all; she was definitely not looking for him, even though he was so late, breakfast was nearly over.

 _Maybe she thinks I ate earlier. Maybe she's waiting for me to come to her._

Hoping that Ron was too wrapped up in Lavender to notice his arrival, Harry plopped down on the other side of Ginny and nudged her playfully, saying, "I hope you saved some sausages for me."

Ginny squeaked in her seat and turned to look at him, her eyes wide with surprise. A blush rose in her cheeks and she looked down at her hands before mumbling, "I think there's plenty."

"Ha, ha," said Harry, grabbing a fork. "D'ya want to go find an empty classroom after breakfast to go practice, or do you think it's going to be warm enough to be outside?"

"Well . . . I, um . . ." Ginny stammered, bright red now.

Harry felt immediately ashamed. He was totally putting Ginny in the middle between himself and her brother. He lowered his voice and leaned nearer so that no one around them could hear, trying to ignore the shiver that went through him when his arm brushed hers. "Sorry, Ginny. I know I shouldn't make light of the whole situation, and I guess I should try to apologize or something to Ron first. I'm just not sure I'm ready yet. That's why I wanted to practice a bit this morning, if we could."

Ginny did not reply, she just kept looking down at her hands. Harry tried again, "Or do you have to study?"

"S-s-study," Ginny managed. She was trembling, and Harry couldn't understand why. For a brief flash, he wondered if she knew what he wanted to tell her and was just having a go with him. But even though he waited an extra beat, she did not raise her head or give him the teasing smirk that would tell him she was joking. And the flush did not retreat from her face. Harry leaned away and watched as Ginny's posture relaxed just a fraction. An icy gust burst through his stomach and he froze, not wanting to think about what her behavior might mean. He took a deep breath.

"Ginny? Is, umm, everything okay? I mean, I thought we had a good talk, yesterday."

At the mention of yesterday, Ginny turned even brighter red. "I'm fine," she said. A completely uncharacteristic giggle slipped out of her lips and she hunched down, not looking at him. "Just fine."

Something horrible was growing inside Harry and he was doing everything he could not to give it a name. _Just act normal, just act normal._ He tried to force the chant inside his head to drown out what he was seeing, but it kept pushing at him anyway, every time Ginny glanced at him and then, just as suddenly, dropped her eyes again. He started to open his mouth again, but when he glanced at Ginny, his heart caught in his throat; in her haste to look away from him she had stuck her elbow in the butter dish.

It didn't help that Ron picked that moment to pull himself away from Lavender enough to notice Harry was there. Harry did not even have a chance to try blocking his thoughts before Ron saw him and shivered. He looked rapidly back and forth between Harry and Ginny as if he wanted to say something, but even as Harry watched, Ron was jumping up from his seat and backing rapidly away, trying to grab Ginny's arm to pull her along with him.

And Ginny went.

She mumbled "bye" to her plate of food and tripped after Ron, her head down so that her hair covered her face.

Harry just sat there, refusing to accept what his brain (and his heart) were telling him.

 _Not Ginny. Please, oh please, not Ginny too._

But there was no question about it. He had gotten close to Ginny, and it had poisoned her. He was completely alone.

Harry sagged; he couldn't breathe. Tears pricked his eyes and he blinked rapidly. _He couldn't cry in the Great Hall. In front of Lavender and Parvati and Seamus, for Merlin's sake!_ They were all looking at him oddly. Although none of them seemed to be reacting badly to him, Harry had no desire to spend time with any of them. For the first time since he had come to Hogwarts, he felt like he did not have a single friend on his side.

He wanted to run after Ginny, grab her, yell at her, make her listen to him until she came back . . . back to him . . . and he was halfway down the aisle towards the door before he stopped short, smashing into some Hufflepuff girl who suddenly pushed back her chair.

 _What if I attack Ginny, too?_

He hadn't felt any rage building in him when he had tried to talk to her, but that didn't mean it wasn't coming. There had been a while that he could sit near Ron too, without actually trying to physically hurt him.

But being next to Ginny had made Harry . . . well, want to continue to be next to her. And she ran away. Like she was 11 years old again and embarrassed to have him see her in her nightgown.

 _Stop thinking of Ginny in her nightgown! That's what probably ruined it anyway!_

Harry slumped down in the Entrance Hall and put his head in his hands. This was all his fault. And the day had started out so well, too. Of course it would crash down around him. That's the way things seemed to go in his life. He couldn't be allowed to enjoy anything for too long before it was jerked away.

The feeling that he should have been able to prevent himself from losing Ginny was eating at him. They had been so close to figuring something out, last night, and she'd been proud of him for being able to block his thoughts towards Ron, even for seconds. But he didn't think he could do it again. Not alone.

 _And if I can't do it, I can't talk to Ginny._

That much was obvious, even though Harry was still perplexed about what was wrong with her. They had sort of worked out that when they got near him, each of Harry's friends was acting in a way that was rather the opposite of their normal behavior: Hermione was unfocused and unstudious, Luna was completely unimaginative and non-whimsical, Neville did not want to stick up for Harry or even acknowledge him, and Ron was completely petrified at the thought of getting involved in anything dangerous, no matter how important it might be in the fight against Voldemort. But Ginny . . . Ginny was acting all silly and embarrassed around him. Like her school-girl crush was back. What was the opposite of being too shy to talk to Harry and tell him how she really felt about him?

 _Oh._

It couldn't be that. It just couldn't be. Fate was not always that cruel, was it? True, Harry had supposed and hoped and even imagined, up in the safety of his room, that Ginny might be feeling about him the way he now knew he felt about her, but to have it slammed in his face like this, when there was absolutely nothing he could do about it . . .

Well, it felt like Fate was standing atop the tallest tower of the castle, thumbing its nose down at Harry, cackling madly. Hell, he might as well throw in an image of her with Dean there too, snogging away.

He couldn't take it anymore. Not even a little bit.

 _He had to go see Dumbledore._

The thought pounced into his mind unbidden. Harry hadn't even been thinking about what he might do to try to fix this mess. He'd been wallowing . . . just wallowing . . . thinking mostly of hiding himself away somewhere - preferably permanently - not even allowing himself to believe that there might be a solution. Not even the sight of Malfoy, nervously looking around before darting towards a shortcut that Harry knew led to the Room of Requirement could shake away his stupor.

But suddenly, seeing Dumbledore, and talking to him about what was going on, seemed to be the best solution. The only solution. It was odd, in a way, because Harry had not been thinking too much of Dumbledore at all, this year. True, he'd had their meetings together, but as he'd told Ginny, only certain bits and pieces of them stuck out in his mind. Much of their talks had left him supremely disinterested.

That thought stopped Harry in his tracks again.

 _Dumbledore was being affected too, somehow._

Harry sifted through the haze of memories about his meetings with the Headmaster this year, trying to figure out exactly how Dumbledore behaved around him. It was more difficult than he thought. Harry was able to gauge some of his own reactions – the disinterest was pretty obvious - but everything he could think and remember about the Professor seemed to indicate he was behaving about the same as usual. Maybe a little more concerned about Harry than normal, but really, that was probably justified.

Harry grasped on tight to the hope that maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore had somehow been spared, even if Harry himself couldn't act normally around the man. It was possible – more than possible, even. Look at the man – the most powerful wizard of all time, in Harry's opinion. The only one that Voldemort had ever feared.

He must be able to help.

These thoughts brought Harry all the way to the gargoyle and it leapt aside at the password, allowing Harry to enter the twirling staircase.

Dumbledore stood quickly, concern etched on his face, when Harry burst in. His eyes scanned the boy, looking for injury, blood, or worse. But the pain was confined to Harry's eyes.

 _Something has happened. Well, something else has happened.  
_ Dumbledore had not missed the tension at the Quidditch game the day before, and had Miss Weasley not gone flying off after Ron and Harry, Dumbledore would have, himself. The need to tread cautiously with the boy, to avoid angering, or upsetting, or even alerting it could not trump a student's life.

It was Harry's life that was proving the most difficult to protect. Conversations that Dumbledore would have liked to postpone for a bit longer, revelations that must be had sooner rather than later, that is what faced Harry. The signs had been growing, but Dumbledore couldn't afford to jump to any conclusions. And, he knew, he couldn't tell Harry outright. Harry had to discover for himself. It was the only safe way.

And so Dumbledore had begun collecting more of the things he would need to help Harry get there. Once upon a time, the Headmaster had imagined that only Harry himself would have been able to finesse the particular memory that now sat in a crystal phial on his desk. But after yesterday, there just hadn't been time for that. True, the method might have been crude, but really, Slughorn was no match for Dumbledore's mental powers. Not when it mattered as much as it did, right now.

But Harry still had to be prepared for what he was going to see. If Dumbledore's theory was correct, it could be painful and terrifying and dangerous. The man was still shocked that Harry had managed to leave under his own power after viewing the faulty memory, and that apparently, no lasting harm had been done. _I should never have let him go, that night. If I had realized . . ._ It had taken another few days of deep thought and research to conclude what had happened, and what was still happening. Trying to pretend that everything was normal, holding back from interfering, watching Harry as he floundered and fought and wondered. The Headmaster hated to do it. But, he had to.

And Harry was making progress, taking small step after small step along the path that would bring him knowledge and responsibility. He was hurting, plainly scared, and confused. All this Dumbledore catalogued in the first seconds Harry stood before him. It wasn't difficult to tell what Harry was thinking; Dumbledore had known it would have to be like this. As he also knew it would be up to him, and him alone, to help Harry figure out the right way to go from here. There really was no one else – a fact that Harry's face admitted to being all too aware.  
 _But carefully. Let him ask for help. Don't offer anything he won't understand._

"How may I help you, Harry?" The Headmaster peered more closely at his face. "Is something wrong? You don't look well, again." The man paused. "Is it the same illness that afflicted you the last time you were here?"

Harry took a deep breath, fighting to stay in the moment. He stared at the ring on Dumbledore's good hand; it grounded him somehow. Otherwise the disinterest and indifference would take over. Harry recognized it now.

In his haste to explain, he tripped over his words, not making any sense, he was sure. But Dumbledore didn't interrupt.

"Ginny . . . it's Ginny, sir. She's like all the others now and I couldn't stop it. She was the only one left and now she's gone too!"

"Gone?" Dumbledore spoke sharply, half standing up in his seat, and Harry backtracked.

"Not . . . not physically. But they're all different. The way they act. Ron and Hermione and Neville and Luna have been for a while. But Ginny was normal. She was just Ginny. And she was helping me figure out . . . things." Harry stopped. He suddenly didn't want to tell Dumbledore too much. And his head was pounding. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to maintain his composure.

But that made it worse. He had to get away. Harry's eyes flew open and he looked around swiftly, feeling like a mouse, cornered with no way of escape.

"Tell me about Ginny, Harry." Dumbledore's voice was soothing and calm. "You've become good friends with her, these past weeks, haven't you?"

Harry grabbed onto the voice, and thoughts of Ginny. The way she smiled, the sight of her streaking through the sky on her broom, Quaffle tucked firmly under her arm, the flowery smell that followed her . . . the way she had made Harry shiver when he touched her hand in the changing rooms . . . how it felt to sit in the circle of her arms and pour out his soul and his fears about the future . . . the way she had looked in the fantasies that had crowded one another, pleasingly, in his thoughts the previous night . . .

 _Merlin, not here! In front of Dumbledore!_

Harry swallowed hard and sat up straighter, trying to subtly shift his robes around him. He was sure his face was bright red.

But Dumbledore didn't seem to have noticed Harry's predicament, and after a moment of acute embarrassment, Harry realized that he wanted to talk again, to tell the Headmaster what was going on with his friends. The feeling of being trapped was gone, and so was the indifference he usually experienced in this office.

 _Had he really done it, then? Blocked the thoughts that were poisoning everyone? By thinking about Ginny? Thinking about her that way? It couldn't be that easy . . . err, hard . . . errr, simple, could it?_

Harry flushed again. An hour ago he'd been sure his thoughts and actions had been the cause of Ginny's leaving him. Now, it seemed that the opposite was true. Although, it seemed a bit . . . farfetched. And really, it could make things quite difficult for him, trying to keep that particular reaction available whenever he was around his friends. Harry snorted to himself, thinking about it. He could just imagine Ron's face. If he'd been mad at Harry before . . .

Dumbledore was still watching him. "Better, Harry? It's easier when you have plenty of good thoughts and emotions to help block the bad."

Harry didn't ask how Dumbledore knew. It was Dumbledore, he knew pretty much everything, as far as Harry was concerned. He only hoped the man would answer some of his questions and not talk in his usual riddles.

"Like a Patronus, sir?"

Dumbledore seemed pleased that Harry had picked it up so fast.

"Similar," he answered. "But instead of trying to use your good thoughts and emotions as a shield to prevent the evil of a Dementor from getting through, you are using them to build a wall, so that no one around you can be affected by . . . well, by whatever it is that making your friends act different. So in that way it's like Occlumency as well"

Harry was certain Dumbledore had been about to say something else, but he couldn't think about that now. The clarity was slipping, and he forced his mind back to Ginny . . . laughing with him and Ron last year when the twins had set off all those fireworks . . . sitting on the bed at Grimmauld Place agreeing that yes, he was a prat . . . grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his face towards hers . . .  
 _Whoa. Back into dreamland. This could get embarrassing. Or at least distracting_.

"Any good thought, sir?" Harry tried to keep his voice from cracking as he shifted in his seat again.

Dumbledore smiled and suddenly Harry was certain the man knew exactly what he was thinking about. But he didn't seem at all perturbed.

"Anything that makes you happy, or content, or . . . relaxed," agreed the Headmaster. "The important thing is that the thoughts have emotion behind them, and that you let them fill you up, so to speak, so that the . . . undesirable elements can't escape."

Harry nodded. It made sense. And maybe he could do this without having to only be thinking about Ginny in that way. There were a lot of good things in his life he could imagine, except . . .

"Sir?" Harry had just remembered what else he and Ginny had talked about. "What about me? I ummm, well, I get really angry sometimes. Mostly around Ron. Around Hermione I get annoyed. And Ginny . . ." Harry stopped, confused. How had he felt when Ginny had put her elbow in the butter dish? Other than horrified and desperate, of course. "How do I block my own thoughts from myself?"

"The same way," answered Dumbledore. "For instance, have you noticed how you've been feeling here, in my office, since you began focusing your emotions?"

Harry did know. He felt pretty good. Curious. Clear. He sighed with relief. He could do this. His eyes fell on Dumbledore's ring again, and a thought occurred to him.

"I feel good, sir. Better than I have in a while. But, please, do you know why this is all happening to me? I keep seeing the Department of Mysteries again, and watching Sirius die, and seeing my friends hurt. Why are they all acting so weird? What happened to us?" He couldn't prevent the catch in his voice at the end, and he blinked his eyes very rapidly for a second.

Dumbledore sighed. He was about to speak when there came a sharp rap at his office door and Severus Snape swept in without waiting for an answer. His eyes narrowed at Harry for a moment before he looked at Dumbledore and said, "Sir, if I may have . . . a word? It's about that matter we have been discussing. I have some information that will be of interest to you."

Dumbledore stood up and Harry did too. "Please wait for me, Harry," he said. "I'll only be a minute. Work on creating good thoughts, if you like." His eyes twinkled and he left, closing the door to his office behind him.


	10. Pieces of Me

Harry sat in the office reminiscing about the summer Ron and the twins rescued him from the Dursleys in their flying car. Despite Dumbledore's suggestion, he just couldn't bring himself to "think" about Ginny here. As pleasant as those thoughts were, they were private, to be shared with no one, if he could help it. Well, except for Ginny. But Harry had not had the chance to tell Ginny anything, and he still wasn't convinced he could get her to listen to him and pay attention the way the "old" Ginny had.

 _Or maybe she's being the old Ginny right now – the one I met years ago at the Burrow. The new Ginny is the one I want._

Now that he had lost her, Harry could appreciate just how close the two of them had gotten in the past two months. Sure, maybe part of that was a response to the fact that he was spending so little time with Ron and Hermione (and their absence pained him all the more now that he knew it was somehow his fault), but he hoped that wasn't the only reason.

Harry shivered and adjusted his robes again. Even without trying, he was thinking about her! Dumbledore would be back soon. Harry looked around the office for something else to distract himself. Almost as if drawn there by a magnet, his eyes fell on the small crystal phial of memories sitting on the desk; as soon as he caught sight of them, Harry couldn't believe he hadn't noticed them earlier. He couldn't pull his eyes away.

Almost unaware of what he was doing, Harry picked up the phial and opened it, pouring the contents into the Pensieve. He didn't care that Dumbledore might come back any second, didn't consider that the last time he'd taken an uninvited trip into someone's memories he'd learned far more than he wanted about Neville's past. Whatever was swirling around in the basin was important, that's all her knew.

The scene began identically to the last one Harry had viewed, the one that had made him so sick. There was the office of a much younger Slughorn, surrounded by a group of Slytherins and future Death Eaters, Avery, Mulciber, and right in the middle, still handsome and supremely calm, the young Tom Riddle.

Just like the last time, Harry's breath hitched in his throat and his heart began beating so uncontrollably fast, it made him dizzy. His head pounded and he could barely see. He forced a deep breath through his teeth, willing himself to remember the final Quidditch match of his third year, when they'd won the Cup. The image in front of him stabilized and he watched the other boys leave, watched Tom Riddle approach Slughorn casually, heard him ask about Horcruxes . . .

And his breath left him again. A wave of nausea passed over Harry, then another. He was vaguely aware that Slughorn was explaining what a Horcrux was, and he knew it was important.

 _He had to . . . focus. Focus on Slughorn. Potions class . . . cauldrons . . . that smell._

And the memory of the flowery smell from the Amortentia washed over him and the nausea receded a bit. Harry felt like his brain was divided in two while he watched the rest of the memory. Part of him was listening to Slughorn talk, and part was firmly back in the Common Room, laying on the sofa with his head in Ginny's lap.

"And wouldn't making more than one Horcrux protect you even more, sir? Isn't seven the most powerfully magic number?" Tom's voice jerked Harry back, fully into the memory, and Harry felt Ginny slipping away, his concentration waning, the blinding thoughts and nausea taking over again . . .

. . . and then he was on his hands and knees on the floor of Dumbledore's office, gagging as the Headmaster pushed a basin under his head.

 _Just like the basin Hagrid had given Ron when he had his slug attack. Ron was great, sticking up for Hermione like that. And Ginny had helped me, the last time I was sick. She hadn't even complained. Her hands had been cool and soft . . ._

It was over. Harry rolled to a sitting position and leaned back against Dumbledore's desk, closing his eyes and running his hands through his hair. The pounding in his head was retreating; he could think again.

"Am I to assume that you couldn't resist going into that memory?" Dumbledore's voice was quiet, but not reproaching.

"I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't help it. It sort of . . . called to me." Harry was still a bit dizzy and he used that as his excuse not to look the Headmaster in the eye.

But Dumbledore did not ask Harry what he meant. Harry heard him sigh. "I was going to show you that memory tonight, anyway," he said. "But I do wish you had waited for me to accompany you. Were you able to use your own good thoughts to fight the bad?"

Harry remembered the pain and dizziness. "I don't think I did so well. Sir, I could barely pay attention for the pain, at times."

"But do you remember, ultimately, what you heard?"

Harry thought. His mind separated again so that he could keep part of his thoughts firmly on Ginny – playing with Crookshanks in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place this time, while he probed his memory for what he had just witnessed.

"Tom . . . Tom Riddle was asking about Horcruxes. And Slughorn told him they are objects that hold a bit of your soul." Harry opened his eyes. "What are they used for?"

He listened, fighting pain, as Dumbledore swiftly explained the mechanisms and reasons behind the creation of a Horcrux. The concept was so sickening to Harry that he could barely focus. But one thought forced its way into his consciousness.

"Sir, did, did Riddle ask about making _seven_? How could someone split their soul seven times?"

"How indeed," agreed Dumbledore. "But I think we both know that Riddle went well beyond the usual evil in his quest for immortality. By the time of the scene you just viewed, he had already killed his father and revisited his Gaunt relatives to steal Slytherin's ring."

Harry eyes opened and moved automatically to Dumbledore's hand. The man smiled. "I see you were paying attention."

"So, that is what you are doing? Finding Horcruxes?"

"That is what I am attempting to do," amended Dumbledore. "And hopefully, if I am successful in locating another, you can help me collect and destroy it."

Harry gulped. "Sir, I . . . I don't know. You've seen how I've been. Why do they seem to make me so sick?"

"Horcruxes are the darkest of all Dark things, Harry. Because they contain a bit of soul, they have powers beyond the ordinary enchantments, and the more depraved the soul of the maker, the more dangerous the Horcrux will be. It is not surprising that even mention of such evil can cause one to feel weak or ill. Especially for someone like you, whose own soul is so pure and good, despite all you've lived through." He looked piercingly at Harry the entire time he was speaking, and Harry felt like there was something he needed to understand. But his head was swimming again and he could not focus.

Dumbledore let him leave, then; there wasn't much more to say, anyway. Harry stumbled out of the office feeling better physically but dreading the task that lay before him.

It was all well and good to conjure up good memories of Ginny and Ron and Hermione when he was sitting far away from them, merely fighting off memories in a Pensieve. But what about when they were face to face? What if his own anger wouldn't retreat enough to give him a chance to make them listen? What if, no matter what he tried, he couldn't get Ginny back?

 _He'd make her listen. He just had to. And then, once she recovered, they could work together again, and focus on Ron and Hermione and the rest. And maybe even get back to thinking about Malfoy._

Even though it had been only a few days, memories of the way he and Ginny had sat together pouring over the Marauder's Map, or racing up to the Room of Requirement, seemed far away. Harry briefly considered the fact that Malfoy could have been getting into any amount of trouble and they wouldn't know it, but he couldn't focus on the Slytherin right now. The fact of having discovered that he might be able to fix everything that felt broken in his life, no matter how difficult the task, had blown away the constant suspicion that had been dogging him since school began.

Had Harry stopped to consider it, he may have thought it strange that he wanted to get Ginny back first. Ron was his best mate, after all. And Hermione was not far behind. But it made perfect sense to him. She was the last one he'd lost, so of course she was the first one to try to recover. Besides, he needed her. To help him with the others, to be his friend again, to hear him out when he confessed how he felt . . .

 _Focus, Potter! You saw Ginny at breakfast – she's completely mental about you right now! You can't just march right up to her and ask her if she fancies a snog!_

Or, could he? Would that be the best way to get through to her? Shock her senses . . . or senseless, as the case may be? Kind of like breaking through a particularly tough charm, maybe. Harry considered it while he sped through the corridors.

 _It could be fun, to grab her and kiss her in front of everyone. Even embarrassed, I bet she'd like it . . ._

Remembering how Ginny had looked at him that morning brought Harry back to his own senses. Not only would such a plan be supremely unfair to Ginny ( _and, on the off chance that it worked, her first act would probably bet to hex the daylights out of him_ ), but Harry really didn't want their first kiss ( _assuming that we ever have a first kiss)_ , to be one that she didn't want as much, and in the same way as he did.

Before he got to the common room, he stopped and pulled out the Map. Sure enough, there was Ginny, sitting at a table. Unfortunately, Ron was right next to her. Harry scanned the document for another name and grinned when he saw Lavender moving around in her room and then heading down the stairs with Parvati. Harry registered the fact that Hermione appeared to be sitting on her own bed; she did not get up and leave with her roommates. When Lavender's dot got to the common room, it separated from Parvati's and moved swiftly in the direction of Ron. To Harry's immense relief, the Ron dot met the Lavender dot halfway across the room and then both of the settled on the sofa near the fire. Harry waited until the two dots had practically merged into one before he gave the password and pushed open the portrait.

 _Time to go intercept Ginny. Oi. I hope she doesn't giggle too much._

Harry had decided to be as nonchalant as possible around Ginny, at least until he got her alone. Maybe if he didn't act like anything was wrong, and didn't push her too much, she wouldn't be so embarrassed, and Harry could actually talk to her rationally, and make her understand.

Ginny was still sitting at the table with Demelza; each of them had their Pygmy Puffs out, and from the looks of things, the girls were trying to get the puffs to show interest in each other. Ginny's purple puff, Arnold, was engaged in an elaborate dance across the table, but Demlza's blue puff (whose name Harry didn't know) was staunchly ignoring Arnold's antics.

This gave Harry an idea. He walked casually up to the table and leaned against it.

"Hey Ginny, Demelza. Trying to teach the puffs to cheer for Gryffindor at the next match?"

Demelza grinned at Harry. "Actually, we're trying to see if Calliope is ever going to show any interest in poor Arnold here. The poor bloke is getting kind of desperate, as you can see." At that moment, Arnold threw himself towards Calliope in a posture of pure supplication. She looked haughtily down at him for a moment and then turned her head away, nose in the air. Demelza laughed. "Oh well. Keep trying, Arnold."

Harry turned to see Ginny's reactions to Arnold's antics, but she was staring firmly down at the table, her face a bright red. Harry touched her on the shoulder. "Hey, Ginny?"

Ginny flinched and squeaked, finally glancing up at him for the briefest second before hiding her eyes again.

Harry didn't let Ginny's reactions stop him. He pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, hunching down ducking his head so that it was below hers and he could look up into her face. Her eyes grew wide at this intrusion into her personal space and she seemed too shocked to speak.

"Ginny? Ginny?" Harry called her name in a sing-song voice. "I'm going to keep looking at you until you talk to me-ee-ee." He finished with a flourish and Demelza giggled.

"Awww, Ginny, you're right. Harry really is absolutely dreamy."

At this, Ginny sucked in her breath and looked horrified at her friend. She was frozen in her seat, looking down at her hands in her lap.

Harry was momentarily encouraged to hear what Ginny thought of him, but then he remembered the last time he had heard that exact phrase in relation to him: it had been a favorite of the twins around the Burrow the summer before second year. Apparently they had snuck into Ginny's room and found a parchment filled with renditions of "Mrs. Harry Potter" and "Ginny Weasley Potter". "Absolutely dreamy" was just one of the many ways she had described him in private the summer she turned eleven. Harry had never let on that he knew about the parchment, and seeing Ginny's face now, he was glad; she looked absolutely mortified.

 _But utterly adorable at the same time. I love it when she blushes like that over me._

Harry gulped. He was feeling a bit love-sick, right now. It was vitally important to spend time with Ginny, that was for sure. He grabbed her hand and tugged on it gently, wishing she would just look at him.

"Come on, Gin, please come with me. I really have something important to talk about with you."

 _Giggling. She's giggling about me. So cute. So very, very cute. But why won't she look at me?_

Noise across the room distracted Harry. It seemed that Hermione had decided to leave her room after all, and now she was rounding on Ron.

"Can't a person even come downstairs and sit by the fire without having to watch such a, a, such a disgusting display?" She sounded rather manic.

"It's not that disgusting," said Ron, rather sloppily, his face barely turned away from Lavender's lips. He looked at his girlfriend. "Is it?"

Lavender took his face in his hands and made his head shake back and forth. "Of course it's not, Won-Won." Lavender sniffed. "She doesn't know anything about kissing and being in love, apparently."

It may have been Harry's imagination, but Ron looked rather uncomfortable at the mention of being in love with Lavender. He gave Hermione an apologetic look, flinching at the teary glare she returned before stomping out of the portrait hole.

 _I need to find a way to talk to both of them. And Ron needs to come to his senses about "Lav Lav"._

Harry suddenly realized he was still holding Ginny's hands. And he had an overwhelming desire to put his head on her shoulder and smell her hair. _She wouldn't mind, would she?_

He was leaning closer, oblivious to the fact that Ginny was frozen in her seat, when Ron yelled from across the room. "Oi! Potter! Get away from my sister! Haven't you attacked enough Weasleys this week?"

Harry broke out of his trance and backed away from Ginny. _It's worse when they're close to me._ Ron was mutinous, but too scared to come any nearer. Ginny was wide-eyed and confused.

Harry stood in the corner of the common room, ignoring all the other students who were gaping at the scene. _Focus, Harry, there's not much time!_ He knew he wasn't ready to fight the emotions from both Ron and Ginny together. He was going to have to do this quickly. And fairly tactlessly. _So much for being gentle with her._ He just hoped he wouldn't have to hex Ron to get him to stay away. He'd had enough of attacking his best friend to last a lifetime.

"Ron, stay back! I need to talk to Ginny alone, and you can't stop me!" He turned to Ginny, his eyes pleading. He didn't even have to work to put the beseeching whine into his voice. "Gin? Ginny? Please, please, please, I really really really want to talk to you right now. Okay? Tell me you will, don't listen to Ron, okay?" He was moving towards her as he spoke, watching the blush crawl up her face. She looked like she could not believe what she was hearing. But Demelza was behind her saying, "Go on, Ginny, I'll watch Arnold," and Harry grinned in victory as Ginny finally took a deep breath and got up from the table.

Harry couldn't help putting his hand on her back, enjoying the shudder that went through him so much that he didn't even notice when Ginny did the same. He was vaguely aware of Ron yelling at him in the background, but right now, Harry's mind was too full of being close to Ginny to get angry.

"I'll hex you, I will!" That got Harry's attention. Ron was not going to give up. Pulling his own wand, Harry pointed back at his friend. "That would be a very, very bad idea, Ron. I'm doing this on Dumbledore's orders." Ron froze in his tracks. Then, just for good measure, Harry added ominously, "I'll be back for you and Hermione next."

Pushing open the portrait hole, he directed Ginny out of the common room.

 _Ginny followed Harry blindly, not even willing to believe her fortune. Harry Potter wants to spend time with me! Just me! Oh, I hope he's not going to regret telling me his secrets yesterday._

The previous day had been positively wonderful. Harry had been absolutely brilliant at Quidditch, even when Ron had acted like a big, annoying prat. She couldn't blame Harry for chasing after him. _And he wasn't even upset that I stopped him from hexing Ron – Mum would have had kittens if he'd lost the broom they got him for making Prefect._

And after Ron had left, it got even better. Of course, Ginny had been secretly hoping that Harry would take the opportunity to kiss her, out there, alone, under a large oak tree that she was already starting to think of as _theirs_. But of course, there was no way that would ever happen. Not with her, of all people. Harry went for the exotic. Look at Cho, for example.

But he had definitely hugged her. A _lot_. She had no idea how she had gotten up the courage to run her fingers through his unruly black hair or stare into his amazing emerald orbs – they were like windows into his very soul and she had wanted to keep looking at them forever.

But this was Harry Potter! Maybe he had needed to tell her something yesterday, but why would he want to keep spending time with her? This had to be another of the twins' pranks. Just like that stupid singing Valentine from her first year. There was no way she was going to be humiliated like that again. Not in front of Harry Potter. She could barely stand to look at him as it was – his gaze pierced her thoughts and she felt like he just knew that her greatest desire was to be Mrs. Harry Potter someday.

Harry pulled Ginny into an empty classroom and whirled around to face her. He knew how important this was, but Merlin, she was cute! She had a smattering of freckles across her nose and he knew that if he got close enough to her, he'd be able to count every one.

 _That would be wonderful – to be close enough to count her freckles._

And the blush climbing up her face when she caught him looking at her – even more wonderful. She was so appealing – and it wasn't just her face. Harry had spent enough time watching Ginny play Quidditch that he knew she was lithe and strong. And wow! The fire in her eyes when she blazed after the Quaffle! Her eyes may be like warm chocolate most of the time, but they burned with a new intensity whenever she focused on a goal. It made Harry go all warm inside himself to think of it.

She was still standing in front of him, eyes downcast. Harry knew that there was something he was supposed to be doing, err . . . well, saying . . . or maybe it was something he needed to be thinking right now, but nothing came to mind. He was just really, really happy to be in Ginny's presence. Even as silent as she was, she had a calming aura about her that relaxed him. Just like yesterday, when she had held him after he tried to kill Ron.

Remembering the Ginny he'd talked to yesterday cleared some of the cobwebs from Harry's brain. She had been there for him when no one else had been. Or could be.

 _And that was what he was trying to get back._

Harry took a deep breath. He hoped that maybe, if he concentrated enough, he could get her to look up at him.

 _Think of real things, think of playing Quidditch, winning the cup, goofing around with Ron._

But with Ginny standing so close to him, it just wasn't enough. There was sunlight pouring through the classroom's window, and the way it played off her hair reminded Harry of a sunset. He knew on some level that he needed to keep his thoughts separate – to think of the real Ginny that was his friend and that he had just realized he fancied – away from the adorable, blushing Ginny that kept crowding out every thought in his brain – the one he just wanted to grab and kiss because she was so _pretty_. And because it would make her blush some more.

 _He really liked to see her blush._

Ginny was finally looking at him, up from under her long eyelashes, and Harry gazed stupidly back at her, not even aware that he was twisting his robes around his finger.

 _What should I say to her? I want her to like me! No, actually, I want her to "like like" me. Maybe I should go find Hermione and ask her what to do. She's good at relationship things. Cause last time I talked to Ginny about a girl, I asked her about Cho! How could I have done that! And she was so understanding, too._

She _was_ understanding – Harry could see that now. But not if she was too shy to talk. _Why wouldn't she talk to him? Maybe he had to go first._

"Ummm, Ginny?"

"Harry?"

 _Wow, we both spoke at the same time! That has to mean we're soul-mates or something._

Ginny had looked down again, and mumbled her question. "D'you want to talk to me about something?" It looked as thought it had taken all of her courage to get those few words out.

 _"Yeah, I do, Ginny. I really do." What did he need to talk to her about? Merlin, he hoped he hadn't scared her. She looked so frightened, and he hated that. It reminded him of Ron's face yesterday, when he'd almost killed him . . . And Ginny had been there to save everything. And to listen to him. Not because he was the Boy Who Lived and she had a silly crush, but because she was his friend. And he was losing her . . ._

And like a thunderbolt, Harry got it. He could remember all the wonderful things about Ginny that he had been discovering over the past few months. They were real, and when he talked to her about them, he was real too. But something was trying to take that away. Harry forced himself to look away. It would be so easy to get lost in her eyes and her hair and her scent; the real Ginny he knew and this strange, shy fantasy Ginny that he wanted to impress were too similar – Harry had to focus all his energy on keeping them apart in his mind.

 _And if I do keep them apart, then I can get the real Ginny back. Cause she's better than this. She talks and smiles and laughs and takes the mickey out of me when I need it._

He had to block the thoughts that were poisoning her, that were making her act as silly and shy and embarrassed as he was being. He had to remember the truth and stop fantasizing about a girl that wasn't what he knew he wanted. He just hoped that somehow, somewhere, that real Ginny wanted him too – and that there was more to the possibility of being _them_ than a crushing Ginny who was infatuated with Harry Potter – the Boy Who Lived.

"You saved me and Ron yesterday, Ginny. Do you remember that?"

A nod.

"You've believed in me this entire year. Like with Malfoy. No one else thinks he's up to something, but you've never wavered. Even when you had to go against your brother to do it."

Ginny's face was still red, her head bowed, but Harry knew she was listening.

"And you've been there for me before. Like last year in Grimmauld Place. You told me to get my head out of my arse when I needed it most. I bollocked up my thank you then, but really, it made a huge difference to me."

And slowly, deliberately, Harry began baring his soul, hoping that at some point, Ginny would hear and understand. It was more difficult than he would have imagined; every time he thanked Ginny or gave her a compliment, no matter how minor, she would blush, and Harry's concentration would wane a bit. But he was in control of what he needed to do now, and while he talked, a part of him was waiting, just waiting, for Ginny's head to snap up and her eyes to open with recognition at what he was doing.

But it seemed to be taking forever. Eventually, Ginny began answering him in a shy voice, but everything she said showed she just could not believe that he, Harry Potter, would want to talk to her. He tried again.

"Ginny, that swerving move you used in the match against Ravenclaw was fabulous – do you think it can be adapted to Hufflepuff's style?"

" _Giggle._ I . . . I dunno. G _iggle._ "

"Well, how did you learn it? I was just amazed to see how easily you scored." Harry had figured out that he could keep the giddy part of himself calm and in check if he continued to give Ginny compliments that were also true and honest. It was a balancing act, and Harry felt himself start to sweat in his robes from the effort. So much of him still just wanted to grab Ginny and hold on tight, and he wasn't sure if the feeling stemmed from his desire to feel as safe and comforted as he had yesterday, or was merely those _other_ thoughts pushing through.

In front of him, Ginny shrugged. "You're . . you're a good teacher, I guess."

Warmth flooded Harry. _A real answer!_ He rushed to fill the void before the silence got uncomfortable. "Well, I'm only a good teacher because you are such a good student. I mean, the way you fly . . . to see you on a broom . . . it's like you were born to be there."

It was too much. Ginny squeaked and ducked her head again.

 _Harry felt frustration build up inside him. It was the truth! She was a wonderful flyer! And if he didn't figure out how to get her out of this . . . this mood, or whatever it was, he'd never see her fly again! And he'd never hear her laugh for real, or grin that grin that told him she was about to try something devious. There were so many things he'd lose, just as it seemed he had lost Ron and Hermione and Neville and Luna._

Harry closed his eyes and gave into the feeling of despair that washed over him. His chances to get any of it back were slipping through his fingers. It seemed like his own, real thoughts were not strong enough to block the evil that was still insisting on attacking Ginny. Sure, he'd been able to do it in front of Ron, briefly, but Ginny had been there by his side, and her support had given him strength. He didn't know what to do now that he didn't have that strength now.

He opened his eyes, ready to just tell Ginny she could go. She was looking at him strangely, her head cocked to one side, her nose wrinkled in confusion. For the briefest moment, her eyes met Harry's, and something . . . something _real_ passed between them. But before Harry could even begin to absorb the look, he involuntarily noted how sweet she looked with her nose crinkled up, and Ginny immediately blushed and looked down.

 _But he'd done it. For just a second, he'd done it. What had he been thinking about?_

Her strength. How he had relied on her when he didn't have anyone else. And more than that, how he had come to realize, only last night, that the feelings he had for her were not merely because she was the only one left. He closed his eyes, trying to balance the very real desire he felt for Ginny with the goopy adoration that was right there too. That she was fueling it with her own behavior made it doubly hard. _Why couldn't she see that she didn't have to shy away?_

The answer was obvious as soon as he had the thought: because none of them could see themselves when the evil was in control.

She was the one who had helped him realize that his own anger was irrational and horrible and spinning out of control. She showed him what he could not recognize himself, and proved to him that if he didn't learn to control his fury around Ron, something terrible would happen. And then, it almost had.

Harry closed his eyes. It helped if he didn't look at her.

The giddiness was fading and now he wanted her back so much if almost hurt. He remembered how it had been with Ron, how the anger had been manageable at first but grown in intensity the longer they were together. "Ginny . . . you have to listen to me. Do you remember . . . before, when you were telling me about how angry I was with Ron? I didn't believe you, remember?"

No answer. Harry chanced a peek. Ginny was staring at him with wide eyes.

 _Not helping!_

He took a step forward. He really, really wanted to be closer to her, and he wasn't even sure anymore which part of his brain was making the request. Ginny's mouth opened in surprise as he walked towards her and her hands twisted nervously.

Her nervousness definitely made it worse. Harry tried to slow his breathing.

 _Talking helps. I need to keep talking._

"Ginny. Please, you have to concentrate." She started and blushed.

"No. Not on me Ginny. Anything but on me. You have to think about how we were, before. How you helped me, and listened to me. You weren't shy then. Remember? Please?"

 _Ginny started giggling and Harry felt himself losing control. He wanted her. He wanted to be with her, and touch her and run his fingers through her hair, but he also wanted . . . to talk. She would listen, he knew, and not judge. She hadn't judged when he tried to kill her brother. She was so wonderful he didn't deserve her. Especially if he wasn't strong enough to get her back . . . She had been strong enough to get him to see himself, how could he not try to do the same?_

It was too much. Thoughts were assaulting Harry from all sides. He couldn't tell which ones he needed to focus on and his head began to pound. The flowery scent was there, and the smell of something burning. The sight of Ginny on a broom, her blush, the amused way she looked at him when he was being ridiculous mixed with the face she wore right now - mortified and sweet and young and silly and . . . flashes of light, gleaming red eyes. Screams and cries of pain. Voldemort was inside him . . . he was poisoning everything . . .

 _Ginny started in surprise when Harry grabbed at his head and moaned. Did I do that to him? Oh, he looks like he's in pain! After all he's been through!_

She considered going to try to find help, but she didn't want to leave. This was the longest she had ever been alone with Harry, and she may never have this type of chance again. She looked back at him when he cried out, "Sirius, no!"

 _The Department of Mysteries. That's where he is, right now. He's remembering losing his godfather._

He'd been keeping so much inside, Ginny realized. Harry still must be in so much pain, and he was dealing with it all alone. That was so like him – protecting everyone else, not wanting them to feel guilty. And now he had the prophecy hanging over his head as well – they'd barely had a chance to talk about it yet, but Ginny was certain Harry needed to. And all she'd been able to think about was how his eyes were like shimmering emeralds? What was wrong with her?

 _It was what he was trying to tell her, before. The thing. It was taking her away just like it had taken Ron and Hermione and the rest. But how was she to fight it? Why were her thoughts so clear, now?_

Harry fell to the ground, still clutching at his head. His eyes flew open, looking wildly around. "Ginny!"

 _He said my name! Oh Merlin, he yelled it out! He must want me for something. He's in so much pain._

Images were confusing in her mind. Harry needed her help. And yet, he'd been trying to help her, too. What had he said?

Ginny crept slowly to where Harry was laying on the ground. His eyes were closed again, and he was still, breathing heavily. She knelt down beside him, trying to slow her breathing as if it would help him calm his own.

 _She wanted to touch him._

Actually, she had wanted to touch him _forever_. It figured in all her fantasies about Harry – running her fingers through his hair, trailing her hands up his back, sighing in his arms as they watched a sunset on a hill.

 _There was always a sunset on a hill._

Harry groaned again, his hands almost clawing at his still closed eyes. _She didn't need a sunset._

Her hand was trembling as it reached towards him. Hardly daring to breathe, she gently brushed back the hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. The shudder that went through her body shocked her.

 _She never shivered in her fantasies. She never really felt anything at all._

But now, feelings were coursing through her, feelings for which she had no name. A tingle moved into her belly, traveled lower, until she was clenching her legs around . . . _the memory of Harry, sitting in her arms, his legs tangled in hers._ She was warm, very warm inside. And everything seemed clear.

Harry groaned again and the hand up at his eyes suddenly grabbed hers. _Harry Potter was holding her hand!_ His thumb rubbed roughly against the back of her hand and Ginny shuddered again. This was so much better than her daydreams. Her bedtime stories had nothing on what she was feeling now. This was so _real_. She wasn't a stupid kid imagining her bedtime stories come to life.. He wasn't The Boy Who Lived. And he'd asked her to do something. Something for him, which was ultimately, something for herself as well.

He'd pulled off his glasses and his eyes were confused and unfocused. He looked very, very young. "Ginny?" The fear in his voice was unmistakable.

Ginny understood. She needed to do what he'd asked. She needed to believe him. Not because she'd been in love with the idea of Harry Potter practically forever, but because she'd become friends with Harry over the past year. Because she knew how much he needed her.

It was so hard, though. Looking him in the eye. Remembering how he'd cried in her arms. Thinking about what he'd trusted her to know about his future. Laughing with him about Cho, sharing with him her fears that lingered about the Chamber.

It was getting easier. She was ready to trust her voice. "Harry. I'm here."

Harry relaxed when he heard her voice. _It's working_. "Ginny, you have to stay with me. Think about how we've been together, about chasing Malfoy and Quidditch and watching your brother slobber over Lavender. It's the only way." He struggled to sit up, leaning a bit into Ginny's arm as she moved it behind his back.

"The only way to what?"

"The only way to fight, well what you get like when you're around me." He paused, nervous that telling her more would make her disappear again.

Ginny frowned, thinking. "I keep wanting to, I don't know, _hide_ or something. It's like, when you look at me, I'm sure I have dirt on my nose or you can see into my brain and tell that I'm thinking about you." She blushed suddenly and Harry froze.

"I can't, you know," he said sharply. "There is absolutely no reason to be embarrassed or scared around me. We've been through to much together for you to behave like that now." His rough words were for himself as much as her. They must have worked, because she swallowed hard and nodded at him.

"But I hope you _are_ thinking about me," Harry continued. "Cause what I've learned is that remembering what's real between us is the best way to fight. If I think about what you mean to me, I don't think about, well . . ." Harry stuttered to a stop, but was gratified when Ginny merely looked interested.

"What _do_ you think? When you're around me, I mean. You don't get mad like with Ron."

Now it was Harry's turn to color. "Well, umm, as far as I can tell, I kind of, umm, really fancy you. I mean, the way you feel about me, when you are, umm, lost yourself."

Ginny was quiet for a moment, and Harry could tell by the look on her face that she was trying to process the information without slipping back into a giggle or blush. Finally she took a deep breath and got a thoughtful look on her face.

"And how do you fight it? By thinking about all the things you don't like about me?" Her voice was light, but Harry wasn't fooled for a second.

"No, not at all. And that's what made it so hard for me. Because the feelings I want to block, and the ones that help me do the blocking, they're pretty close to each other."

Ginny was quiet again. There wasn't even a hint of a giggle in her words when she spoke again.

"And what are those feelings?"

Harry was acutely aware that, once again, he was sitting in Ginny's arms, leaning against her body. Heat flowed through him and pooled in a place he had been trying to ignore as he fought to bring Ginny back. He gave into the sensation and closed his eyes. Ginny's arms tightened around him and he felt her shudder.

"Oh," was all she needed to say.

"They're not . . . I mean, it's not because . . . It was like this, before," he finally managed. "I realized it last night. I was going to tell you today, and then . . ."

"And then I disappeared," she finished.

"Yes."

"And you brought me back."

"Of course."

"So why aren't Ron and Hermione here, helping you?" Ginny's voice was genuinely confused.

Harry turned to look at her, positioning himself so that he didn't lose a bit of contact with her arms. "Well, they aren't, _back_ yet. I haven't tried. I . . . well, I wanted you, first."

Ginny was quiet for so long Harry was sure he had made a mistake telling her. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "Why?"

Almost unconsciously, Harry entwined his fingers lightly with hers as he answered. "Because I couldn't stand the thought of you not being here for me. And I knew I wouldn't have the strength to talk to Ron or the others without you on my side." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "And because . . . I think I'm starting to fall in love with you." He looked at her in the face them, praying to himself that his admission didn't overwhelm her. But one look at her face and Harry knew she had accepted the truth as much as he did.

And before either of them had moved another inch closer to each other, Harry understood how right it was. The space between them was almost a living, pulsing _thing;_ he could feel how the emotion they shared was both pulling them together and pushing away anything that had tried to keep them apart. Desire bubbled up inside him, and it was emotional and mental and physical all at once. He wanted to talk to Ginny for hours, he wanted to share every feeling, we wanted to kiss her and never let go.

Physical won.

Harry moved his hand, slowly so not to alarm her, and stroked the back of it down her cheek to cup her chin. When she closed her eyes and leaned into his palm he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She helped by scooting forward and moving one leg to curl around his back. Every second was charged; that frightening, giddy longing that had blocked his senses had been completely replaced with desire so intense he wondered how he had ever lived without her, here like this, here for him. He lowered his mouth to her hair and whispered an answer to that unsaid thought, "I am here for you, too."

"I know." Ginny tightened her arm around him and ran her fingers along the back of his neck.

Harry surrendered completely. He took Ginny's face in both his hands and lowered his lips to hers, fully intending, for a full half-second, to kiss her lightly and then pull away.

They were both completely unprepared for the explosion of electricity between them when they connected. Ginny groaned and melted into Harry; he felt every pent up bit of energy that had been hiding inside him burst forth and wash away the last vestiges of whatever it was that Voldemort had planted inside him. If it was still there, somewhere, Harry couldn't feel it at all, while he was kissing Ginny.

After shifting himself once or twice, he heard Ginny giggle against his lips. But it was the right kind of giggle, now, that told him that not only did she know exactly why he was wiggling around, but also that she didn't mind one bit. With a sigh, Harry pulled her to him. When he felt her hands fumbling at the front of his robes before they slipped inside and ran up his back, he gave into the sensation and buried his head in her shoulder. For long minutes, he didn't move.

Eventually he slipped his own hands underneath Ginny and lifted her lightly into his lap. The smile playing on his lips matched her own, he was sure. And the acceptance, mixed with longing, that he saw in her eyes was everything he had imagined just the night before, laying in his bed.

"It's amazing," Ginny said, finally breaking the silence. "I'm not feeling shy or embarrassed at all now. Even though we've never done, _this,_ " she gestured between them, "before. It feels completely right." She looked at Harry. "When did you know?"

"Last night," he admitted. "It umm, hit me rather suddenly that I fancied you. And then this morning, when you were so different, I thought it was my fault, that by, umm, _liking_ you, like that, I turned you away from me too."

Ginny grinned at him. "The things you come up with to fuel your guilt, Potter." She was thoughtful for a moment. "But I wonder what _did_ trigger the change, all of a sudden."

Harry thought about it. "Well," he said slowly, "I exploded at Ron. Maybe that anger transferred to you, somehow."

"Maybe," said Ginny doubtfully. "But you've been getting mad around him for months now. I think it was something else."

"I still think it's that I realized I fancied you," said Harry honestly. "When I realized how important you are to me, _it_ realized too, and tried to ruin what we have."

Ginny liked this answer, Harry could tell. She sighed and snuggled closer to him, her hand trailing random patterns over his leg. "And you finally told me about the prophecy," she pointed out. "You've been wanting to talk about it for a while, haven't you?"

At the mention of the prophecy, Harry's stomach gave a weird lurch as if he'd been kicked in the gut. Ginny heard him suck in his breath and looked up in alarm. "What is it? A vision?"

"No," Harry gasped, "but almost." He fought back the lights and screams that were beginning to fill his brain. "But I think you're right. The prophecy is tied to all this somehow. And so is what happened to us at the Department of Mysteries."

"Did you see Dumbledore today? I remember you telling Ron that you were kidnapping me on his orders. What does he think?"

"I think he knows more about what's happening than he's letting on," said Harry slowly. "But, I think he has his reasons for not telling me everything." He grimaced. "I just hope it's not that he's trying to protect me again. That's why he waited so long to tell me the prophecy."

"Which was probably not a bad idea, in the scheme of things," pointed out Ginny. "You really didn't need to know about it when you were younger – it was enough that you had Voldemort or his followers trying to kill you every year."

"I guess," said Harry. "But whatever it is, I hope he tells me soon."

They didn't talk for a while, after that.

Not when there were so many other interesting things to do with their lips.

Eventually though, Harry realized that the sunlight had stopped falling through the windows and he was quite hungry.

"We seem to be getting into a habit of missing lunch," he said wryly.


	11. Pieces of Me Outtake

A/N: Here's the outtake from Harry and Ginny's first kiss. It is "R" rated, but still pretty mild - so read at your own risk.

They were both completely unprepared for the explosion of electricity between them when they connected. Ginny groaned and melted into Harry; he felt every pent up bit of energy that had been hiding inside him burst forth and wash away the last vestiges of whatever it was that Voldemort had planted inside him. If it was still there, somewhere, Harry couldn't feel it at all, while he was kissing Ginny.

And just kissing her wasn't nearly enough. As new as all this was for the two of them, Harry still felt supremely comfortable. Maybe it was due to the weeks of watching her snog Dean, or the tension that had been unconsciously growing between them, or (most likely) his explicit realization and activities of the previous night, but he didn't really feel like this was their first kiss.

When his lips and tongue met a spot on her neck, just below her jaw line, and Ginny shivered and groaned, Harry knew that he was going to do everything in his power to get her to make sounds like that as often as he could. Her head was thrown back and she sat in the circle of his legs, leaning casually against his bent knee. His breathing quickened to match hers and when Harry brushed the hair away from her face and hooked some behind her ear, she made a little mewling sound that was almost his undoing. He threaded his fingers together at the back of her neck and pulled her face closer almost frantically.

Just when she was close enough for Harry to feel her hot breath on his face, she licked her lips, and his own tongue darted out to meet hers. With another groan, she opened her mouth enough for him to capture her bottom lip in his own, and he sucked, gently at first, and then with increasing pressure as his tongue flitted around her mouth, tasting and exploring.

A dim part of his brain reminded him to slow down and see what Ginny thought; after all, she had presumably not spent the last evening thinking about him in quite the same way. But just as he determined to pull his lips back and gauge whether she had any hesitation about what they were doing, she hooked her leg more firmly around his waist and scooted almost into his lap, effectively ending that particular train of thought.

For a long moment, Harry did his best not to move, wanting to take in every sensation he could. Ginny moved one hand to the back of Harry's neck, her thumb flicking lazily across the skin there, and Harry's entire body tightened in surprise at the sensation. He would never have expected that attention to a part of his body that he couldn't see and rarely considered (other than for an occasional wash), could be so erotic. But it was. But then again, this was Ginny. She could probably rub his elbows and it would turn him on.

He was definitely turned on, now. He was surprised he had any blood left in his body to make him blush, as all of it seemed to be currently pooled in a spot between his legs, but when Ginny shifted her weight and her thigh rubbed unintentionally (was it unintentional?) against his growing erection, Harry felt his face heat up. He considered doing the gentlemanly thing and shifting away a bit, but although his brain was trying to make him behave, several other parts of his anatomy were being quite pigheaded.

 _Harry had never been so pleased to see his stubborn side emerge as he was, right then._

Instead, he attempted a subtle (and completely ineffective) swipe at his crotch, and then a wiggle to try to adjust his robes. And then another.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the wiggling actually felt good. Which completely defeated the purpose of it in the first place. And all the while, he was still trying to focus on the feel of Ginny's lips, now trailing soft kisses across his face and down to his jaw. Harry forced himself to sit still and just enjoy . . . things, but it was getting harder to concentrate.

And well, it was just getting _harder_ in general. Time for another wiggle.

Ginny's amused giggle broke him out of his pathetic attempts to draw attention away from himself. _Brilliant. Might as well have shined a big light on it, Potter._

Ginny's giggle was definitely here in the moment. She grinned frankly at him, not shy at all.

"Honestly, Harry. I have six older brothers. Do you really think I have no idea what's going on?" She got playfully thoughtful for a moment. "Although, it takes on a whole new meaning for me to be the one causing the condition. Somehow, hearing Fred and George joking with Ron about the length of his wand is just not that much of a turn-on."

Harry groaned. "For me either," he mumbled. "Did you really have to mention your brothers, right now?"

Ginny smirked. "It helped your little 'problem', didn't it?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah. I'm just not sure I'm happy about it. And did you have to call it 'little'? We blokes can be kind of sensitive about those things."

Ginny moved even closer to him so that her mouth was right next to his ear. "Well, we wouldn't you to be unhappy, now, would we?" she murmured.

Harry's brain was still trying to process exactly what she meant when, _Sweet Merlin!_ , her hands were at the front of his robes, and then inside them, and then resting quite firmly atop the bulge that had been softening inside his trousers. "Is that okay?" she asked, an air of innocence around her.

Harry could only squeak his acquiescence, all thoughts of brothers gone from his mind. He wiggled again, under her hand, but this time for quite a different reason. In return, she increased the pressure, wrapping her hand around him through the cloth and putting her other arm around his waist, pulling her to him. Harry thrust involuntarily, and the sound that emerged from his lips was quite feral. Any embarrassment was long past.

After a moment it occurred to Harry that he really needed to return the favor, somehow. His mind was awfully fuzzy though, that particular second. The best he could do was to think, _Up? Or Down?_ , as he contemplated Ginny, noting for the first time that she was not wearing any robes over her uniform.

Up, he decided. At least for now.

It was quite easy; her shirt was untucked and it was no effort at all to slide his hand underneath and touch her smooth skin. Ginny's quick intake of breath deterred him for only a second; the next moment she exhaled "Yes," and Harry moved his hand higher until he reached the bottom of her bra. He didn't even have to stop and think. In an instant, his hand was underneath, cupping her as firmly as she was him. Even distracted by his own arousal, (which was growing by the second), he couldn't help but marvel at the way her nipple suddenly hardened when he rubbed his thumb across.

 _Ginny was right. Being the one causing a reaction makes it take on a whole new meaning._

It was more intense, of course. And the fact that Harry was already close to his own edge made it that much better. But there was a power in it, too. _I made her feel this way. I made her react_ . A feeling of deep tenderness swept through him too - he wanted to make her feel as good as he could, to protect her and love her and bring her pleasure. Pleasure like that which was suddenly building rapidly inside him, so rapidly that Harry realized immediately that he was powerless to control it.

"Ginny . . . Ginnny . . ." he gasped. His hips jerked spasmodically and he couldn't help pushing harder against her hand. He tried to say something else, but his words got lost in a groan as he climaxed suddenly, his body shuddering with the orgasm he had not been expecting.

Harry let his forehead collapse on Ginny's shoulder. He couldn't do anything for a long moment besides breathe in and out, trying to gain control. It was only when he realized that one hand was still up her shirt and underneath her bra that he was able to sit up. He pulled his hand away as quickly as possible, turning bright red in the process.

"S-s-sorry," he stuttered, still out of breath. "I kind of lost control, there."

"Me too," said Ginny, smiling at him with a hint of her own blush. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, well, you know. I kind of got carried away."

Harry grabbed her hands. "Just for the record, I'm glad you did."


	12. Fighting for Them

Ginny held tightly to Harry's hand for the entire walk back to Gryffindor Tower. Despite everything she now knew, both about the truth of Harry's feelings for her and about how the evil thing was trying to change them both, she was still finding it difficult, sometimes, not to disappear back into the silly shyness that made everything real fade away. Knowing that her behavior affected Harry too made Ginny all the more determined to stay in the present, and holding his hand, feeling his body rubbing casually against hers as they walked, made her mental task easier.

Even keeping herself grounded, she was still somewhat in shock at the events of the past hours. All these weeks, she had been trying so hard to keep her friendship with Harry in the right place. He'd needed her, and she had wanted to be there for him, as a friend. And while she hadn't been able to deny the fact that they were growing closer, she had steadfastly ignored the hints and thoughts and feelings that flitted through her brain sometimes, telling her that she might be feeling more. Harry was her friend. She was like a little sister to him. He thought of her in the same, completely platonic, non-sexual way that he obviously thought of Hermione. No question.

Except.

Every once in a while, she would catch him looking at her oddly, and a strange little tingle would run across her skin, like goose bumps after a shower. And he'd not worked particularly hard to hide the fact that it annoyed him to see her with Dean – she'd just always assured herself that he was just being a prat like Ron over the thought of her kissing a boy.

She never let herself think about kissing Harry. Never. Not even a little bit. It would have been too much like she used to when she was younger and suffering from her over-the-moon crush. And now that she'd been forced to re-experience those feelings and behaviors again – albeit unwillingly – she was even more relieved that she had never let her thoughts stray in the past weeks. _What if she'd begun acting like that again, just because?_

With Hermione's help, Ginny had locked those feelings well away in her fourth year. And it had worked. She'd become Harry's friend for real, and everything was so much better. If she hadn't been able to be his friend then, she never would have been able to help him all these past months. She probably wouldn't even have been able to talk to him back on the Hogwarts Express. So, it was with a large measure of relief that Ginny considered why she'd never again pursued that path of thought, or those feelings.

Walking now, holding Harry's hand, Ginny was just as relieved that she had simply been ignoring the truth about her feelings, and that they had not evaporated. Because missing out on the past hour would have been just . . . wrong. She shivered. Given her reaction, she suspected that even if the issue had not been forced upon them, the two of them would have ended up in a similar . . . position eventually. Being Harry's friend had chiseled away at the wall around her emotions and it was only a matter of time before she would have admitted it to herself.

What she hadn't quite realized, until now, was how good a friend he was to her, too. In truth, Harry's demons this year had made Ginny think, even unconsciously, that he needed her more than she needed him. (Pushing aside the desire for him she was hiding away, of course). It wasn't that Harry was needy, indeed, his stubborn refusal to accept help from anyone, and his insistence on keeping his feelings bottled up was one of his most defining traits. But losing Ron and Hermione had cracked Harry's careful façade more than usual, and suddenly the peril and excitement that usually swirled around the trio, leaving Ginny somewhat on the outside, had swallowed her up. Even though it had started with Malfoy, now it was personal; she was involved as much as anyone.

 _And that had never been more apparent than when Harry's plea for her to stay with him, in the moment, had finally begun to break through the barrier that the . . . thing had built up. They really needed to better word for whatever it was that was affecting them all. Harry thought Voldemort was somehow sending evil inclinations now, along with thoughts, through the scar connection. It made as much sense as anything else, Ginny supposed._

But whatever it was, it had poisoned her as much as Ron or Hermione or the rest, and yet, Harry had brought her back. He'd had to fight its pull on himself at the same time, its attempt to crowd out his mind and separate the two of them in their own worlds, but he had still succeeded in breaking through and getting her to see how wrong her behavior was. He had kept her from He had saved her as surely as when he fought Tom Riddle in the Chamber.

First. He'd chosen to fight for her first.

The part of Ginny that was still feeling the need to blush and giggle told her it was just Harry's noble way of thanking her for listening to him these past weeks. That he felt he owed her the most or something.

But most of her knew that wasn't true. Just as she had examined her feelings back on the Hogwarts Express and realized that she wanted to help Harry because she liked him and believed him, she could see that he wanted her around for the same reasons.

Ginny's heart started beating faster. Because of course, there was more. The part she had been avoiding thinking about because it seemed too unbelievable to her, and if she thought about it too closely, it would be obvious that it was the evil thing making him say the words, not Harry.

 _I think I'm starting to fall in love with you._

Ginny had not said anything in response when Harry had told her that. They'd just kissed. That was enough of an answer, wasn't it? Did it matter to him that she hadn't returned the sentiment with her words? What would her words be?

 _Could she tell him she was falling in love with him too?_

Ginny wasn't sure. She had never been the type of girl to use those words lightly. It had actually been an issue with Michael Corner – he'd professed his love only a week after they started dating, and had been quite put out that she had not responded in kind. Actually, she'd never said the words to him.

 _And Harry only kissed you an hour ago!_

It was different, of course. There was no question that it was different. She knew Harry better, even just as a friend, than she had ever known (or wanted to get to know) either Dean or Michael.

She could fall in love with him, she was certain. Especially when she considered him apart from all the mess of this year – and focused on the good things. There were already many, many things she loved about Harry Potter.

Ginny glanced up at Harry's face. He was more relaxed than she'd seen him be in a while. The anger and confusion and disorientation that accompanied his visions and flashbacks and when he was around Ron was totally absent from his face now. His eyes were a little unfocused, and even as Ginny watched, a tiny grin flitted across his features. A second later, the hand that wasn't holding hers casually brushed down the front of his robes. Ginny suppressed a giggle, but Harry heard her and looked over at her, grinning sheepishly.

"Just, umm, making sure. You know?"

Ginny pretended to be indignant. "What, you don't trust my stain-removing spells?"

Harry cocked one eyebrow at her. "I don't know. How often in the past have you used that spell for this particular stain?" His tone was joking, but Ginny suspected that he was not as sure as he'd like to be about her answer.

"Never," she replied firmly.

Harry squeezed her hand. "Good."

Harry couldn't slow his thoughts enough to focus on any one thing as he and Ginny walked back to the common room. It was better that way, actually. Thinking critically about what he ( _well, they_ ) had to do next made him tense. Rapidly flipping through random images in his mind allowed him to ignore pretty much all of them. He concentrated on only a few – those of Ginny's face, just inches from his, right before he kissed her. Harry still couldn't quite believe it had happened. He gripped Ginny's hand tightly, needing to feel the reassuring pressure of her presence beside him as they walked. He still didn't completely trust his newfound ability to block his emotions without physical contact.

 _Plus, the physical contact was awfully nice._

He grinned to himself, latching onto what they had both discovered was the safest, easiest (and by far, the most pleasant) way to keep the evil at bay: thinking about each other.

It was strange, that thinking about how much he liked Ginny could somehow keep Harry from falling back into that abyss that was him _Adoring Ginny_ , as if it was a display in the twins' shop with big flashing lights and lots of sparkly hearts. And he couldn't help but feel that just this once, no matter how completely undeserved, Fate was giving him a leg up on this one. Because Ginny had realized that _she_ did best when she was, in no particular order, holding his hand, kissing him, or running her fingers through his hair.

 _Had he once actually despised his mess of hair?_

Maybe it was all an illusion, a little blip in the grand scheme of whatever evil had taken hold of everyone. Maybe Fate was waiting until they were truly comfortable with each other before it rubbed its hands together and cackled, pulling the rug out from under Harry and leaving him alone on the floor. If that was the case (and Harry couldn't let himself believe that it was), he was going to enjoy himself as much as possible in the meantime.

They had certainly moved rather quickly in that aspect of their relationship. Even as they walked, Harry felt himself tighten in memory. It had been so much better than his self-gratification the night before. Totally surprising in its intensity too. Harry realized that his days of wanking to the thought of an anonymous, fully-robed Hogwarts girl were long past. He hoped Ginny didn't mind, if he ever got up the guts to tell her.

 _Maybe that's the kind of thing a bloke keeps to himself, even when he has a girlfriend to supply the fantasy. I'll have to ask Ron about it . . . hopefully I'll be able to do that soon. Harry's thoughts were getting away from him; he unconsciously smoothed down the front of his robes, but it wasn't subtle enough, apparently._

He was relieved to learn that Ginny had not gone far with either of her previous boyfriends. Not that it would have been a big deal if she had, but Harry secretly liked the idea that they were in more or less the same place, right now. It would make experimenting that much more fun . . .

And yet, it wasn't all going to be physical between them, Harry reminded himself. Being together would not just deteriorate into a Ron/Lavender-style snog-fest – he was certain of that. Harry wanted to talk to Ginny about everything. He felt a little guilty about it too; she listened to him so much already. _I'll have to make sure to find out what's she's thinking about all this. I wonder if she's worried about confronting Ron._

Harry pulled Ginny to a stop in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"You know, this," he said, gesturing to their clasped hands, "is going to make your brother go ballistic." Harry grimaced. "I think it would even if he didn't believe that I'm bloody dangerous and trying to get you killed."

Ginny smirked. "Well, if you're scared, I could always go back to Dean . . ."

"Don't even think about it," Harry growled, pushing her against the portrait and kissing her thoroughly.

"Oof, oh, do you _mind_? I can't see anything, here!" The Fat Lady was indignant.

Harry and Ginny jumped apart, giggling, but a moment later, Ginny was serious.

"So, do you think we should tell Ron about us first, or do you want to talk to him about fighting the _thing_ , and then let him know we are together?" Ginny asked.

There was no question for Harry. "We need to tell him about us," he said firmly. "Because there is no way I can fight my anger if you aren't there with me." He looked at her seriously for a moment. "Holding my hand the entire time."

Ginny's answering smile glowed in her face. "Of course." Then it grew a little wicked. "I'll snog you right in the middle of the discussion, if it helps."

"You're on," said Harry, giving the password and pushing open the portrait. "But there's no way I'm kissing Ron."

". . . and then, I'll have to get a new set of robes, of course, because they've all already seen my silver ones. Maybe blue, don't you think? I could get some to match your eyes . . ."

Ron barely heard Lavender as she prattled on about . . . something or other. He'd long ago discovered that he only needed to tune in every fifteen minutes or so, mutter an "umm hmmm" in her direction, and that was enough to keep her happy for a while.

It was quite boring, actually. He wished he could join Seamus and Dean playing Exploding Snap or go over to where Hermione was studying and ask her to look over his Potions essay, but Lavender had made it quite clear that "us time" had to include "sharing their feelings", and not just snogging. Problem was, her feelings all seemed to center on what she was going to wear the next day. And couldn't remember her once asking him how he felt.

Ron made the mistake just then of looking over at Hermione, still scribbling furiously over her parchment. She looked so . . . studious. And focused, with her face crinkled in concentration like it got when she was trying to figure out a particularly tricky issue. He bet she'd be interested in talking about something other than bloody clothing. Like trying to figure out what Harry was up to. Why didn't he want to hang around anymore? Things had gotten rather out of control at Quidditch yesterday, but that was no reason for the bloke to avoid him. They'd worked worse things out before. Ron sighed. He needed Harry for another reason too. Maybe he'd be able to help him figure out what to do about . . .

"Hey! Won Won!" Lavender had caught him looking at Hermione. "Why are you staring at _her_ again? It's not like she's prettier than me or anything."

Ron was saved from having to answer by the portrait door opening and his sister walking in. Ron rubbed his eyes, not quite sure what he was seeing.

 _Are they holding hands? My sister and, and Harry?_

He didn't even notice how quiet it had gone in the common room as everyone there took in the sight of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, standing much closer together than any two people who were _just friends_ should. In the silence, Harry let go of Ginny's hand and wrapped his arm around her waist.

Ron was out of his seat before he even knew what he was doing. He was shaking, but forced his arm to stay steady as he pointed his wand at Harry's face.

"Get your hands off my sister!" The words carried clearly across the silent room. Even Hermione had put her quill down and was watching.

Harry pulled out his own wand. "I'm faster than you, Ron. I wouldn't try anything if I were you."

 _Harry was taunting him. Standing there, his wand only inches from Ginny's throat. Any second he could turn and . . ._

"Ginny, get away from him! He's not safe!" In his mind, Ron saw Harry fly towards him on his broom again, his eyes blazing red, a look of maniacal rage on his face. He was so frightened for his sister he could barely see straight. _Why wasn't anyone helping?_

Ron didn't see the look of pained concentration that crossed Harry's face as he stalked closer, his wand still raised menacingly. He did see him tighten his grip on Ginny though, and he almost fell over when Ginny raised up on her toes and lightly kissed Harry on the jaw. "It's okay, love," she said. "You can do this."

 _What kind of spell did Harry have her under?_

"Get away from her now, Harry, or . . . or, I'll go get Dumbledore!" Ron hoped desperately that the threat would work. If Voldemort himself feared the man, surely Harry would cower a bit at the thought of having to face the Headmaster. But Harry just laughed.

"Sure, Ron. You do that. Go get Dumbledore. Tell him you're scared because Harry Potter's been snogging your sister."

A collective gasp went up in the room. Dean grabbed his Exploding Snap cards and stomped over to the stairs up to the dormitories.

 _Dark Magic. This had to be some kind of Dark Magic. He had to keep his cool before Harry did something terrible. But how could he figure out what was going on?_

Keeping his wand firmly trained on Harry, Ron sidled slowly over to the table where Hermione was sitting. He expected Harry to do . . . something – attack him or move closer or _something_ , but he stayed where he was, his arm around Ginny. He seemed to be taking slow, deep breaths, and once, Ron saw him bow his head and close his eyes in concentration as Ginny muttered into his ear.

 _That's strange. I wonder what they're talking about. Is it true? Did they really snog? Hmmm. Hermione'll never let me forget that she was right about that one._

Harry raised his head and looked back at Ron again, an expression of pain on his features. A terrified shiver went through Ron. Keeping his eyes firmly on Harry, he reached next to him and grasped blindly around the table where Hermione was sitting.

She was not happy.

"Ron, what are you doing? Ron! You made me smudge my essay and I still have three inches to go! Ron?" Hermione finally seemed to realize something was going on. She looked confusedly back and forth between Ron and Harry and Ginny, who were still standing across the room.

"Hermione, shhhh. I need you help." Ron hissed out of the corner of his mouth, wand still high.

"What? Help with what?"

"Shhhh. Not so loud! We need to figure out what kind of Dark Magic Harry used on my sister."

"What?" Hermione peered around Ron and looked across the room. Harry and Ginny were still standing with their arms around each other. Ginny was rubbing Harry's back lightly as he took deep breaths. Hermione shrugged.

"They look fine to me. Now can I get back to my essay?"

 _Ron looked at his friends. They did kind of look okay. A bit tense, maybe, but that could be because they were worried about his reaction. Ron lowered his wand._

Across the room, Harry took a hesitant step forward. Ginny's arm fell away from his waist as he moved. His face darkened.

Ron felt a spasm of fear jolt through him. "Hermione!" he muttered urgently. "I need you!"

Harry closed his eyes. _I can't do this._ He knew that he needed to control his temper, but seeing Ron standing there like a statue, attempting to threaten Harry with his wand, was too much. It made Harry just want to . . . break him or something.

A soft hand found his again. _Ginny._ He forced himself to slow his breathing long past ordingary calm - until the pace felt unnatural and the worst of his anger faded. But it was still there, just beneath the surface. Harry was certain that if he tried to move any closer to Ron it would burst forth again despite Ginny's calming presence.

"It was so much easier to control myself when I was with you," he said quietly to her. "Somehow I I wanted to suppress that lovesick side of me because I knew that finding that feeling for real would be so much better."

Ginny squeezed his hand. "Don't you want to find your friendship with Ron again too?"

Harry closed his eyes against the sudden prick of tears. "More than anything, Ginny. I just don't know if I can find my way."

"Fighting your anger and his fear is much more difficult that fighting a couple of silly teenage crushes," she said.

"And with you, both sides of me wanted the same thing, more or less," Harry replied. "Ron and I, we're fighting against our own instincts here." He looked over at Ron, who was now whispering urgently to Hermione. Whatever he was saying, it didn't seem to be making much of an impression; she kept trying to look back down at her parchment. As Harry watched, Ron glanced quickly at him and then grabbed both of Hermione's shoulders, as if to force her to look at him. Harry looked back at Ginny.

"I have to just do this. Follow my lead, but don't let go of me, okay?"

Ginny looked Harry and nodded. "Okay."

Harry watched Ron for a long minute as he pleaded with Hermione. He kept taking small peeks at Harry and Ginny, as if not sure what they were going to do. Harry experimented, trying to let bits of anger flare out, and then suppressing it with thoughts of Ginny, and of Quidditch, and, most importantly, of hanging out with Ron, just goofing around. It seemed to work; Ron looked alternately terrified and confused. Finally Harry squeezed Ginny's hand as tightly as he could and stopped blocking. Anger flowed through him, but Ginny's presence gave him just enough control.

"Ron!" Harry made his voice sound as menacing as he could. "I need to talk to you. About Quidditch. You were totally distracted and it almost lost us the game."

Ron couldn't believe it. Harry tried to kill him yesterday and now he was accusing _him_ of almost losing the game? And worst, he had Ginny under some sort of . . . spell or something. She may not have been Imperiused yesterday, but now, Ron wasn't so sure. Ron looked quickly down at Hermione; she had gone back to writing and wasn't paying any attention.

 _No one else knows Harry as well as she does, except me. I **have** to make her pay attention._

He grabbed for Hermione's arm, still trying not to take his eye off Harry. "Hermione, _please_ listen to me. There's something wrong with Harry and I need to you help me figure out what it is."

Across the room, Harry had closed his eyes, and Ron felt secure enough to look down at Hermione. She was looking up at him with a confused expression.

"Why do you think something's wrong with Harry?"

 _Finally, a real answer._

"Hermione, if you haven't noticed, he's been completely mental all year. He's threatened me, he's been taking all kinds of crazy risks, he's convinced Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, and, yesterday at Quidditch, he tried to hex me off my broom!" Ron's voice had risen a bit and a couple of curious faces looked up around the room. He forced his voice back to a whisper.

"And, Hermione, right before he hexed me, his eyes glowed _red_. I mean it. He's dangerous and now he's got Ginny under some Dark spell. She's totally nuts about him all of a sudden, doesn't think he's dangerous at all. You have to help me figure out what's going on!" Ron glance up at Harry and Ginny. Harry was watching him with a wary look on his face and Ginny was whispering to him urgently. Next to him, Hermione giggled.

"Well, I see I was right. He _does_ fancy her!"

"Ron! I'm waiting!" Harry was yelling again and Hermione looked uncertainly down at her homework. "I . . . I don't know if I can help, Ron."

Harry was walking closer. He seemed to be pulling Ginny along with him. _Was Ginny struggling to get away?_ Ron felt like his heart was in his throat. _Why didn't someone jump in and stop Harry? Where were Dean and Seamus? Or Neville?_

But most of the other Gryffindors seemed determined not to look in the direction of Harry and Ron. They'd seen the two disagree before, most spectacularly during Fourth Year, and apparently this current row didn't seem much different. A few younger students were watching curiously, but all in all, Ron was alone.

Harry was practically in Ron's face now. His wand was out and when he leaned over to speak, his voice was low and menacing.

"I'm taking Ginny to the Room of Requirement. You'll come too, if you know what's good for you . . . and her." With that, Harry plucked Ron's wand out of his lax hand, turned on the spot, and stalked towards the portrait hole, towing Ginny behind him in his wake. She had not opened her mouth to speak once. _Did her eyes look glazed?_ He knew he had to move, to think, to do _something_ before they got too far, but his legs felt like they were disconnected from his body and his brain refused to make a decision. _He took my wand_. Ron had no idea what to do, and as a result, he stood dumbly for longer than he should have, watching Harry and his sister.

Halfway across the room, Harry stumbled a bit. His hand loosened from Ginny's and he snaked his arm back around her waist to steady himself before he began walking again.

Ron felt a hand on his arm. "Do you still want me to go with you?" _Hermione. Finally._

Ron finally tore his gaze away from Harry and Ginny. "Yeah. Please." He took her hand. "We have to hurry."

Harry hadn't wanted to do it that way, he really hadn't. But he just didn't have the strength to block his emotions enough to make Ron and Hermione listen rationally to him, especially when he had to focus on Ginny too.. Even now he felt so many different things swirling through his mind it made him dizzy. Foremost was anger at Ron and right behind that was indifference towards Hermione. But trying so hard to fight both of them made his control around Ginny waver too; he heard her gasp once or twice as he squeezed her hand so hard it probably hurt, but he was determined not to give into the silly giddiness again.

Pushing his feelings back and forth had helped him though; his anger had a flip side now. When he looked at Ron, he still felt the irrational hatred, but almost as strong was an aching desire to have his best friend back. There was so much he needed to tell Ron, and he was only just beginning to realize how empty so much of this year had been.

Ginny had not exactly taken Ron's place – she'd filled in the gaps his absence created in a completely different way. With Ginny, Harry felt complete in a way that had never realized he was incomplete, but the holes left by Ron (and Hermione) were still just as present. There were things a bloke could only discuss with his best mate, no matter how wonderful his girlfriend might be. And Hermione had been one of Harry's best friends for too long for him not to miss her presence almost as acutely.

Harry rushed along the corridors of the castle as quickly as he could without actually breaking into a run. He wanted to get all four of them into the Room of Requirement before they started talking, and that meant he had to balance everything he was thinking just right so that Ron and Hermione kept following him. Ginny didn't say anything as she hurried along beside him; they had agreed that if Hermione had refused to come with Ron, Ginny would have stayed behind to convince her. Thinking of that scenario, Harry suppressed a shudder; he would have had to deal with Ron, alone.

Harry paced back and forth in front of the door, hearing Ron pounding through the hallway just around the corner. We need someplace safe to talk, safe to be . . . just safe. The door appeared just as Ron did, yelling, "Give me back my wand!" Harry spun around, pointing both of them at Ron, but Ginny tugged him through the door and Ron chased after him, Hermione just behind.

As soon as Harry got into the Room of Requirement, he felt his wand, and Ron's, fly out of his hand. A metal container appeared and both wands, followed by Ginny's and then Hermione's zoomed to the container, which slammed shut.

 _Well, at least I don't have to worry about hurting Ron by magic._

The rest of the room looked a lot like the Gryffindor common room. There were a number of comfortable chairs and couches in a loose circle near a fire, but there seemed to be quite a few extra small tables and ottomans and poufs like in Professor Trelawney's classroom in the middle of the circle, so that Harry had to thread his way through them to reach one of the loveseats. Ron remained standing by the door. He jumped when it slammed shut, whirling around to tug on the handle, but it wouldn't open.

His face was mask of horror. "What did you do? Did you bring us here so you could attack me with no witnesses? Is Ginny going to help this time?" He looked wildly at his sister. "Ginny, please, come here. I promise, whatever's going on, we can fix it. Just stop listening to Harry." Ron turned to Hermione. "You see? You see? He's totally got her under his spell and now we're trapped in here!"

Hermione just shrugged. "I don't know, Ron. It doesn't seem that bad here, to me."

Ginny had sat down next to Harry in the loveseat and now she put her hand on his arm.

 _Time to get started._

Harry closed his eyes and leaned into her, breathing in her flowery smell, feeling the rise and fall of chest against him. Keeping his eyes closed he pulled up the image of him and Ron on the Hogwarts Express, their very first time going to Hogwarts. He thought of sharing sweets with him, laughing about Scabbers, meeting Hermione. Letting the images fully fill his mind, he called out in Ron's direction, "Please Ron, sit down. I swear I won't hurt you. We need to talk." A thought struck Harry and he grinned to himself before continuing. "I'm sure the House Elves have provided a wonderful snack for us."

"Humph. As if they don't have enough to do. Honestly, Harry, do they need to feed us between meals too?"

"Hermione! Don't ruin it! Look at all this food!"

Through his closed lids, Harry heard Ron moving closer, and he suddenly understood the reason for the maze of tables between them. Cautiously he opened his eyes.

Ron was sitting across the circle excitedly contemplating an entire tray of fancy sweets. He was not paying Harry any attention. Hermione, on the other hand, was looking at him critically.

"So, Harry, what exactly is going on? I feel like I've barely spoken to you this year."

Ron looked Harry directly in the face then, and almost immediately Harry felt a thrill of anger that was reflected in the fear on Ron's face. He forced himself to take a deep breath and tried to smile at the thought of being able to hang out with Ron – away from Lavender.

"That's because we've spent almost no time together. Since June practically. I'm . . . I'm too dangerous to be around, right now."

"Finally you admit it!" Ron's voice was triumphant, but also a bit confused. "I mean, you tried to kill me!" He looked at Hermione. "Remember?"

Harry closed his eyes again. This is so hard. "Ron . . . you're right. You were right from the start. There's something . . . wrong with me, something dark, and I don't know what it is."

"Dark?" Ron's voice was wary, but not terrified when he answered, and it gave Harry hope.

"I think Voldemort is planting dangerous thoughts in my head again. But this time, they're hurting everyone around me too."

"Voldemort's in my head?" Ron's voice had risen in pitch and Harry could not help but open his eyes. He knew the shock and disgust that came with the revelation. Ron was staring at him and Harry forced himself to look back. The need to reassure Ron kept the anger just barely at bay.

"No, don't worry. It's just me again. But for some reason, these thoughts are more powerful. They make everyone around me mental too, but everyone is affected differently.

Harry felt Ginny's hand squeeze his leg. He looked at her and smiled, and then couldn't resist brushing his lips across her forehead. Ron's next comment was thoroughly confused.

"So, Voldemort . . . being in your head . . . it makes you want to touch my sister?"

Harry suppressed a bark of laughter. He felt really good, all of a sudden. He looked back at Ron.

"Well, not exactly. That's kind of the cure." He bit back another smile as Ron raised his eyebrows. This was how it was supposed to be, the two of them. This felt good.

Harry wasn't sure what to do next. He was certain that if he moved away from Ginny, or changed the subject, it could all go to hell again in an instant. There was so much they needed to cover, it was going to take time.

Or maybe it was going to have to happen all at once. Hermione's voice broke through his thoughts - logical, considering, and longing to go research. This was the Hermione Harry loved, the one he trusted to find the answer, if the answer lay in a book somewhere, and then explain it to him in words he could understand. But her first sentence laid everything bare at once. He couldn't do this slowly, couldn't hide. And it hurt.

"So Harry, tell us everything that's been going on. Don't leave anything out."

The room seemed colder, all of a sudden. Harry felt again like he had when he'd been fighting for Ginny – like there were two sides of his head battling for dominance. He knew what he wanted, but what he wanted was split – to get his friends back or to keep them away?

He had to focus. Focus on the good things, the good memories, and block the bad. But Ron was staring at him in horror again and Hermione had turned away and Harry was trembling with the attempt to keep control

When the images began to swim, he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

 _Not now, please not the Department of Mysteries now. I need to stay here_. Dimly, Harry heard Ron jump to his feet and trip backwards away from the circle of chairs. Ginny was rubbing his back and he tried to focus on that, but it was slipping away . . .

Harry was angry . . . Ron was frightened, he was sure . . . He was always frightened . . . like when they had gone to visit Aragog on Hagrid's orders and it had almost gotten them killed. The two of them almost got killed a lot when they were together, that's for sure. But that didn't stop the two of them from getting into more trouble . . . they loved trouble. Both of them . . .

"What's wrong with him? Ginny? Why's Harry moaning? Is it Voldemort?" Harry?"

"Talk to him, Harry, you have to." Ginny's voice was soothing.

"Ron . . . " Harry's voice cracked with the effort as he sat up. "Look at me, Ron. Please. We can fix this, I know we can." Ron stopped retreating.

"It's not me, it's Voldemort doing this. You have to believe me. You have to . . . remember good things about me." Harry stopped then. It wouldn't make a difference what he said, if Ron was too scared to hear him.

"What kind of good things?" Ron's voice was so quiet Harry wasn't sure he'd heard right. Next to him, he heard Ginny suck in her breath. He was also vaguely aware that she was giving Hermione a look, as if to tell her to just keep quiet for a while.

It wasn't so cold anymore. The air was heavy, as if the room itself was waiting silently, along with everyone else.

Harry gathered his thoughts. He didn't know if he'd get a second chance to do this right. It was taking all his energy to focus right now and if he bollocksed it up, he was pretty sure it would be a long time before he could get Ron alone and willing to listen again.

"You and me . . . best mates, you know? I was thinking . . . earlier . . . about the Hogwarts Express. Our first trip. And that stupid spell Fred gave you for Scabbers."

"Ron's voice held a hint of an embarrassed grin as he recited, "Sunshine daisies, butter mellow . . ."

"Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!" finished Hermione. "Honestly Ronald, I can't believe you fell for that spell."

Ron grimaced. "I can't believe that was Pettigrew all along!"

Harry froze, wondering if talking about their third year was going to scare Ron. But he seemed lost in his reminiscing. "Too bad Crookshanks didn't eat him, I guess." He looked right back at Harry. "Would've saved us a lot of trouble, hmm?"

"Yeah. A lot. Although, trouble seems to follow us around." He paused again. Everything he said felt like a veiled threat. And Ron was looking wary again. Harry backtracked.

"Well, actually, trouble seems to follow me around. You . . . and Hermione, you just bail me out, most of the time." He amended his thought, quickly. "And Ginny." Next to him, Ginny squeezed his arm. Harry worked to refocus his thoughts again. The Burrow, and eating one of Mrs. Weasleys enormous meals, and playing Quidditch over their apple orchard. He looked up again. Ron was shaking his head slowly.

"Not this time."

Harry felt a spasm of fear. "What do you mean?"

Ron looked him straight in the face. He was walking closer, weaving around the tables and chairs the Room had put between them, when they all suddenly disappeared. He stopped only a foot away.

"I mean, we didn't bail you out this time. We made it worse. At least, I did. I've been so scared of my own shadow that I haven't listened to a thing you've said all year." He rubbed his hand through his hair. "Hell, I yelled at you in the middle of Quidditch yesterday! It's no wonder you wanted to hex me. You needed me and I totally failed to be there."

"No, Ron." Harry had jumped to his feet. Ginny stood up too and gave him a quick look. He nodded at her and she understood. He could do this alone. She smiled at him and walked slowly over to where Hermione was watching Ron intently.

"You didn't fail me. Not at all. There was nothing to fail. There's just this . . . evil that Voldemort put in my head and it's trying to ruin everything."

"But . . . " Ron was still speaking slowly. "If I had been a . . . stronger friend, I could have fought it, right?" His eyes were pleading. "I always manage to let you down just when it's the most important that I stick by you, I mean, look what happened the last time I didn't believe you – you almost got yourself killed by a dragon! I'm surprised you still want to hang out with me at all."

"Ron . . . " Harry couldn't keep his voice from breaking as he looked at his best friend. "You've got it all backwards. If you weren't such a strong friend, I don't think we would have lost each other in the first place. I don't have any trouble talking to Seamus." He grimaced. "Or Dean."

Ron cracked a grin.

"And," Harry continued, "if you were not my best mate, I wouldn't care as much as I do about fighting whatever it is in my head so that I could get you back." He looked over at his other best friend. "You and Hermione. I need you both, no matter how mental I've been acting. You have to believe that."

Without thinking, Harry reached for Ron's arm, but froze when Ron flinched.

 _Too fast._

Harry felt in supreme control of his own emotions, but he could tell Ron did not. He took a step back, holding his hands up in a show of surrender. "Sorry. It's taken me two days to figure this all out. Dumbledore helped me. I need to fill my mind with good thoughts, to keep the bad from getting out and poisoning all of you." He looked over at Ginny. "And then Ginny and I realized that she can do it too – fill her mind with good emotion – and it helps her block even more of the bad. We've been practicing a bunch."

He heard Ginny snort and Hermione say something that sounded like "I knew it", and Harry turned bright red as he realized what he had just said. Ron appeared to be trying to process it all.

"So, you never tried to hurt her then?" He turned to his sister. "And you were never scared?"

"No," replied Harry. "We were, ummm, different with each other, when it was in control. We uhh, got kind of silly, I guess."

"I put my elbow in the butter dish again," said Ginny pointedly.

Ron was quiet. "And why do you think Voldemort is putting thoughts in your head, again? I mean, can he really think you'd fall for it a second time?"

Hermione leaned forward. "And has all this really been going on since June?" She frowned, and Harry knew that she was disturbed by the idea that they had all been under the influence of Dark Magic and she hadn't even realized it.

Harry sighed. He still had so much to tell them all and he wasn't sure Ron and Hermione were ready to hear it. The looked calm and focused right now, but it might not last once he started talking about his visits with Dumbledore and theories about Malfoy and the flashbacks he kept having of the Department of Mysteries. And he still had not told them about the prophecy. He sat down heavily. It was all a bit much, just then.

"Harry?" Ron's hand was on his arm. His eyes were clear and open and unafraid. When Harry spoke, it was heavily, past the lump that was suddenly in his throat.

"And you think you aren't strong enough to be my friend. Bloody mental."

There was a moment of silence, where Harry thought Ron was trying to figure out what to say, but instead, he just swallowed hard and looked back at Harry. Without really thinking about it, Harry took a hesitant step forward, just as Ron held out his arm awkwardly. "D'ya want to . . . ?"

After their fight Fourth year, Harry had realized that he didn't really need Ron to apologize. They had gone back to best mates with barely a stutter after Harry battled the dragon. This time, Harry knew that Ron did not need his apology either. But after the weeks and months of fear and anger, after barely being able to be in the same room with each other, Harry knew that he wanted more than a handshake to show him they were all right. He clapped Ron on the back and laughed when Ron grabbed him around the neck and pretended to punch him in the gut. Their hug turned quickly into a wrestling match; they were playing it up for Ginny and Hermione.

Harry knew they weren't fooled. Not for a minute.


	13. The Evil Within

Harry shuffled uneasily in his seat. So far, everything in the Room of Requirement had gone better than he could have hoped. With Ginny's help, he'd succeeded in biting back his anger until it was only a dull ache around his middle. They'd been able to convince Ron and Hermione to listen to them and those two had learned how to block most of Harry's evil feelings with good thoughts of their own. And, for the first time since June, Harry had been able to look Ron in the eye and not see paralyzing fear. Harry didn't have to look at Hermione to know that she was almost quivering with excitement at the thought of trying to figure out what was going on; the shelves and shelves of reference books that began appearing in one corner of the room told him everything he needed to know.

But now Ginny and Hermione were leaving, going to find Neville and Luna and bring them back to talk. They deserved to be here as much as the rest. Harry had asked Ron to stay. He had really missed his best friend. But now, as Hermione walked towards the door and Ginny reached up on her toes to give him a kiss, Harry couldn't help but be nervous. What if it all disappeared when Ginny did? What if he couldn't hold it together when he was alone with Ron? He looked over at the other boy, fully expecting Ron to look as nervous as he felt. He had every right, after all.

But Ron was grinning at him. Lounging in a chair, looking supremely comfortable. And eying a new plate of tarts that had just appeared, courtesy of the House Elves. And in that moment, all of Harry's anxiety disappeared.

 _Ron trusts me._

And that made Harry trust himself. There was no reason to think he couldn't handle this. The door shut on Ginny and Hermione and Harry turned to grin back at his friend.

"So, fancy a game of chess?" A beautiful set appeared on a table between them.

Ron sat up. "What, you haven't missed losing spectacularly to me all these past months? You're on."

And just like that, it was fine.

With the help of the Marauder's Map, Ginny and Hermione did not have any trouble tracking down either Neville or Luna, it was convincing them to come to the Room of Requirement that proved tricky. Hermione was fascinated.

 _Interesting, just the mention of Harry is enough to make them both act odd. I thought he had to be physically close to them to trigger the evil._

"It must be getting stronger," Ginny commented. "Harry told me yesterday that every time he was around Ron, his anger got worse."

"Hmmm," responded Hermione. "I wonder what that means?"

"If I know you, it means a lot," laughed Ginny.

In the end, they had to rely an a mild Confundus charm to get Neville and Luna into the Room. As soon as the door closed, Luna looked around curiously.

"Hermione, I thought you said you'd seen a Crumple Horned Snorkack in here." She caught sight of Harry and her pupils contracted. "Oh, hello Harry. How are you this evening?"

Hermione took Luna's hand and walked her closer to Harry as Ginny gave Neville a gentle shove in the same direction.

"Actually, Harry and Ron and Ginny and I have something much more interesting to discuss with the two of you. Would you mind sitting down? I promise, you're going to be fascinated."

Hermione had suspected that it wouldn't be too difficult for Harry to block his emotions around Luna and Neville, not after he'd had so much practice with Ron and herself. She was right, and shortly thereafter, the two of them were sitting comfortably in chairs with the rest in an informal circle. The first time they had all been together since the Department of Mysteries.

Ginny was cuddled up next to Harry, gently stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. As Hermione watched, Harry closed his eyes as a shiver ran through him; she didn't miss the way his hand tightened briefly in Ginny's before he opened his eyes again and looked around. Unsurprisingly, he didn't look like he entirely believed his fortune. Hermione couldn't blame him. From what she'd heard in the past hours, the last four months had been almost pure hell for Harry.

 _Well, except for the parts that involved Ginny. I knew that was coming for the both of them. But I still can't believe I didn't realize what was going on._

That was still bothering her, and she suddenly felt sympathy for Ginny, and what she must have gone through her first year. Deep down, Hermione had always wondered if, somehow, Ginny should have been able to figure out what was going on with the diary. Sitting in the Room of Requirement and learning from Harry that all of them had been trapped for the past months by Dark magic and not even been aware of it was rather unnerving for Hermione. It was also one of the best lessons she had ever had.

Everyone was looking at her expectantly. Ron broke the silence.

"Come on, Hermione, we know you must have a million questions and probably two million theories about what's going on. So, let's get to it."

Hermione didn't feel she should be in charge. Hadn't she just realized that logic and book learning were no match for Voldemort and his Dart Arts? She shook her head.

"I don't, I mean, I'm not . . ." She trailed off and looked at Ginny, the latent guilt bubbling up inside.

"How did you stand it? When you found out that he'd been inside your head, I mean. I feel so horrible that I didn't know what was going on with us, I can barely think straight."

Hermione watched Harry grimace, and she immediately wished she could bite back her words. She'd meant them as sort of a late apology to Ginny, but obviously they'd been equally applicable – and painful – to Harry.

"I don't think any of us have been able to stand it very well, I mean, look at us!" He frowned. "What I can't figure out is _why_ Voldemort suddenly wants to start planting ideas in my head again." He looked at Hermione. "I've been having flashbacks to the Department of Mysteries and I don't know why."

"Why can the thoughts suddenly affect all of us, too?" said Hermione slowly, more to herself than the group. "It just doesn't add up. I wonder . . . " She broke off and looked up at Harry. "Harry, have you talked to Dumbledore about all this?"

Harry suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, I've talked to him," he said. "He's the one that taught me how to block my emotions around all of you." He crossed his arms and looked down; something was obviously still troubling him. Hermione bit her lip. The four months of silence suddenly seemed vast, and she was strangely hesitant to push him, even though she would have thought nothing of it before the Department of Mysteries.

Ginny took over. "There's something else, Harry, isn't there?" She rubbed her hand down his cheek as she spoke and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes again, Harry's face was grave. "Have any of you ever heard of something called a Horcrux?"

The Room of Requirement was the ideal place to have this discussion. No one could bother them, and that was a good thing, because Harry did not want to be interrupted. It was bad enough having to explain Horcruxes once. His head hurt from trying to remember everything Dumbledore had told him during their meetings. Harry was surprised to realize that he had retained more than he expected, but revisiting everything he had seen in the Pensieve and what Dumbledore had told him was not enjoyable.

"You mean, every time he murdered someone, he broke off a bit of his soul and stuck it in . . . in a piece of jewelry or something?" Ron looked horrified, whether at the thought of the murders or the soul dividing, Harry could not be sure. Probably both.

"Yes," Harry said heavily. "Dumbledore reckons that he intended to make his final Horcrux with me, but obviously, he couldn't. They worked well enough to keep in alive though, and when he returned, he likely made his sixth when he killed an old caretaker at his father's former estate. Dumbledore thinks he put that soul bit into his snake."

"Ugh," shuddered Neville. Next to him, Luna nodded seriously. "Snakes have their own souls, they wouldn't like another inside them."

"Well, Nagini apparently doesn't mind. That was the snake that attacked our dad last winter," put in Ginny. She looked at Harry. "Does Dumbledore know where all the Horcruxes are?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "He doesn't even know exactly _what_ they are. He has suspicions, but he's only completely certain about the two that have already been destroyed."

"Which ones?" asked Hermione.

"Well, there was a ring. Dumbledore destroyed it himself. It once belonged to Slytherin and it contained a curse that blackened Dumbledore's hand – you've seen it, right? The other Horcrux he's sure about is the diary. Tom Riddle's diary, I mean."

"The diary?" Ginny's voice next to him was low. Harry turned to her and grabbed both her hands.

"It was the key to all this for Dumbledore," Harry said softly. "It made him realize that Voldemort made more than one Horcrux, if he was so willing to use that one as a weapon, and not just a way to keep himself alive."

Ginny was shaking her head back and forth. "But . . . but then, when he possessed me . . . it was with a bit of his soul? His actual soul? It wasn't just in my mind?" Her voice rose a little at the end. "He was . . . in me?" Her face paled as she read Harry's face. Suddenly she jerked her hands away and ran to the corner of the room.

Harry jumped up before anyone else could react and followed her, putting his arms around her shoulders as she fell to her knees and retched. He held her hair away from her face and gently rubbed her back while she got sick and then pulled her, shaking, into his lap when she was done. Conjuring a glass of water, he rocked her silently as she gasped and cried and tried to regain control.

Finally, Ginny took a deep breath and turned to look at him. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just . . . I mean . . . I didn't mean to . . . "

"Shhh. It's okay. I know. There's nothing you need to explain." Harry brushed her hair away from her temple and kissed her lightly there.

"But . . . " Ginny pushed herself up a bit in Harry's lap. They were both oblivious to the others, watching them silently across the room. Hermione darted across the room to grab a book that pushed itself halfway off the shelf and begin feverishly pouring through it. Had Harry looked up, he would have seen acceptance on Ron's face, masked only by the concern he felt for his sister. But Harry was too focused on making sure Ginny was okay to notice.

"So, yeah, it was his soul. So what? Is it really that much different than if he had just played with your head?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. It _feels_ different, but maybe only because I think it should."

Harry hugged her. "It doesn't matter. They're both terrible, but he's gone now. He can't get you again. I won't let him."

Ginny sagged a bit in Harry's arms and leaned her head against his chest. So quietly that none of the others could hear, she whispered, "Thanks Harry. I really needed to hear that." She was quiet for a moment. Then . . . "I really needed you. I . . . I still do."

"Well, it's about time I was able to return the favor," said Harry, lightly. He wanted to pull Ginny out of the horror he was certain she was feeling, just as she had done so often for him. He kissed her hair again. "And anyway," he continued, stroking her back so she'd know he wasn't serious, "it's Voldemort in _my_ head we're all concerned about right now, not yours."

Ginny swatted him lightly on the arm and Harry knew she was feeling better. "Prat."

"Ahem," Hermione didn't sound like she wanted to interrupt, but the look on her face – a mixture of disgust and horror, combined with the expression Harry recognized she wore when trying to figure out a particularly hard assignment – was impossible to ignore.

She was still holding one of the books. Harry helped Ginny to her feet and, keeping one arm firmly around her waist, walked closer. _The Dark Arts, Moste Terrible_ he read. Hermione was still paging through it, shaking her head.

"Horcruxes . . . " she muttered. She looked up. "Oh, Harry, they're just horrible!" She sank heavily onto the loveseat next to Ron. "Did you know, Horcruxes are such Dark Magic that even some dark wizards can't make them? They might commit the murder, and say the incantations, and even have the intent, and yet, when it comes to encasing their soul, it doesn't work. Instead . . ." she stopped suddenly, and shuddered.

Ron leaned forward towards her and put his hand on her arm. "What, Hermione?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Instead . . . the soul piece just flies away. It's lost forever." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"And yet, You Know Who was able to make seven of them?" Neville's voice was a mix of horror and sick amazement.

"Six," corrected Harry. "Dumbledore thinks he made six. The seventh bit is still inside his body."

"So what exactly does Dumbledore want you do to, mate?" Ron had moved closer to Hermione and Harry noticed that he was now holding her hand.

"I'm not exactly sure," said Harry. "But I think he's trying to figure out where another one is, and then we can go get it and destroy it."

"How do you destroy a Horcrux?" asked Luna. "It can't be as simply as destroying the golden burst berry. All you have to do there is breath on it after eating an onion. Is there anything in the books?" Hermione began paging again while Ginny looked thoughtfully at Harry.

"I can't imagine it's easy to do. If the whole purpose of a Horcrux is to keep the maker alive, wouldn't he put as many enchantments on it as possible to make sure it can't be destroyed?"

"Hermione flipped through the book. "You have to put the container beyond all magical repair." She looked up. "I imagine that's part of the Dark Magic imbedded in the Horcrux itself," she said. "It's creation probably includes a good bit of self-defense to prevent it's destruction."

"No kidding," agreed Harry. "The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me."

Ron snorted. "Just like the bit of Voldemort in _you_ tried to kill me."

Ron's joking tone distracted Harry from the meaning of his words, he was actually happy for a moment that things between him and Ron had gone back to being so normal that they could joke about something like attempted murder. Everyone was chuckling, at first and it took more than a moment for the comment to sink in around the room; while Hermione had been asking her questions and giving her theories they had all sunk into a kind of comfortable stupor. Alert, but enjoying the true feeling of relaxation that had been absent for so long.

But there was something there, and Harry frowned, trying to understand why Ron's comment was so important. Across the room, Hermione understood first; Harry saw her suck in her breath and look at him with wide, scared eyes. As soon as his caught her glance, she looked away.

Seconds later, the vague unease punched Harry in the gut.

 _No. It can't be._

He couldn't get his head around it. Next to him, he was only partially aware of Ginny's quiet "Oh" of realization; he didn't want to look at any of his friends, didn't want to see the horror he felt reflected in their own eyes, as one by one they understood exactly how damaged he was.

 _Of course. Voldemort wasn't planting evil thoughts or visions in his head again. He wasn't even possessing him like he had in the Department of Mysteries. He didn't have to. He already had a much stronger hold on Harry. A bit of Voldemort's soul, living inside of him. Trying to hurt anyone who got too close. A Horcrux. Harry was a Horcrux._

Harry could see as understanding traveled around the room. Ron's voice, still full of joking, faded away and Neville looked back and forth between Harry and Hermione, pain evident on his face. Luna seemed to be the last to realize, but that might just have been her way. Harry had to look closely to see the difference in her demeanor, but he was certain that her already protuberant eyes grew just a bit wider, and blinked even less.

The silence, like a blanket over them all, was back.

Predictably, Hermione spoke first.

"But don't you see? I think this is a good thing to know, Harry," she said tentatively. "It helps us understand so much more about what we're dealing with, and how to fight it."

No one else spoke. By the looks on Ron's and Ginny's faces, Harry could tell that they agreed with him; there was nothing good at all about knowing he was a Horcrux.

Neville was biting the inside of his cheek. Harry just knew that he was trying to think of something supportive to say, to try to make him feel better. It would be Neville's way. The fact that he could not come up with a single thing unnerved Harry.

He stood up so quickly that his vision blurred with the head rush. "Get back!"

 _I'm dangerous. I need to stay away._

It wasn't just a suspicion now. It was the truth.

It didn't matter that he had figured out how to control his emotions around them, didn't matter that they were all doing their own wonderful jobs at filling their minds with good thoughts so that the evil ( _Bloody Hell, just call it a fucking Horcrux, now you have the name for it_ ), could not affect them.

He was infected. Completely malignant.

Harry sagged under the realization of what it all meant. The longer he spent close to his friends, the greater the chance that the Horcrux would break through again. Hell, the bit of soul was probably trying to figure out its next move this very minute; it had already shown an uncanny ability to pinpoint exactly what each of his friends meant to him, and steal it away. Who knew what it would attempt next in its attempt to stay alive?

Harry looked at Ginny. She was the closest to him, and he was certain she'd been inching that way ever since he'd warned them to stay away. Her face was a mixture of pain and concern, and Harry was overwhelmed with the need to envelop her in his arms, both to wipe away her own sadness as well as to recapture his own bliss at being with her.

He wanted to kiss her again, if only for a second.

 _And then, the soul could move into her._

Harry jerked back as if he had been shocked. He couldn't touch her. It had happened before – the bit of Riddle in the diary hadn't only tried to kill Harry. First, it has escaped its container and tried to possess Ginny. And who could say that it would not try to do so again?

Ginny was still advancing towards him. The look on her face said she knew exactly what he was thinking and that she wasn't going to let him get away with any of it.

 _But it's different this time. She has to understand how dangerous this is._

"Ginny . . ." Harry's voice was tortured. He knew what he had to say to her. _I don't want to do this._

"I can't . . . I mean, _we_ can't. Ginny. I'm sorry, but, I won't put you at risk that way." Harry looked wildly around the room. "Any of you. I, I can't be here, you know that!" His voice had risen, and he saw Neville flinch.

"Harry, don't be daft. You've been . . . well, you've had . . ." Ron blew out his breath. "Look. He's been there since you were a baby, right? And nothing's happened until now, so what are you worried about?"

Harry couldn't believe Ron was so blasé. "Ummm, the last four months? Maybe the soul didn't care when I was younger, but if you hadn't noticed, it made me try to kill you yesterday."

Hermione was still reading. "Probably part of the self-preservation it has inside." She looked up at all of them. "Something must have happened to make the Horcrux think it was suddenly in danger of being destroyed, to make it start to fight all of us."

"But Voldemort's tried to get Harry every year since he was eleven," Neville broke in. "Why wouldn't it have tried to protect itself all those times?"

"It was the veil," said Luna. Everyone turned to look at her. "At the Department of Mysteries. The soul heard those beyond the veil, and it wants to avoid them." She sat, her hands folded in her lap, and watched them all serenely.

Hermione looked as if she was going to disagree with Luna, but then she frowned. "Well, maybe . . . but . . . yes, that must be it!"

"What?" said Ron.

"All the curses . . . all the danger, the brain room, the prophecies, everything put together probably woke up the Horcrux to the fact that something was trying to destroy it, well, destroy Harry."

"Right!" Ron picked up her thread, looking excited, as if he'd figured out a tough chess move. "And then, when old Riddle himself jumped in, it was too much!" He looked delighted with his deduction.

"Will you all just stop?" Harry was tired of them talking about him if he wasn't there, as if this . . . this Horcrux inside him was no more difficult a problem than how to fix his eyebrows after practicing human transfiguration or something.

Silence fell, and everyone looked wary. Harry felt a little of the old anger burning in his stomach, but more than that, he just felt . . . empty.

 _Ironic, since I'm apparently full of a lot more than I knew._

He looked at each of them in turn. "Just . . . stop. Please. Don't try to make me feel better, don't try to analyze me, don't try to figure out how to fix this. Don't do anything. Except stay away. Leave me alone." He spoke calmly, quietly, but with force. And Neville and Luna and Hermione nodded and began moving back from him, towards the door.

Ron held out his hand. "Harry . . . " His face was pained.

"Not now, Ron, please." Harry looked at his best friend. Two hours. That's how long they'd had together. Two fucking hours and now they had to stay apart. "It's not . . . I mean, I wish I could . . ." He stopped. What was there to say? He could see the indecision on Ron's face – stay, and prove he wasn't scared, or do what Harry asked and leave? Harry felt a flicker of warmth inside, knowing that Ron wasn't rushing to abandon him. He wished it could be some other way.

"Ron . . . I know." He finally said. "And, thanks." He took a chance and looked his best friend in the eye. "It means a lot to me." Ron nodded. "I think you're being ridiculous, you know." He squared his shoulders. "I'm staying."

Desperation at getting them all out of there made Harry lash out. "What, so I can attack you again? Please, don't make this difficult." He looked around. Neville and Luna were out the door, and Hermione gave him one sad smile before she followed them, the Horcrux book clutched against her chest.

But Ron was still standing near him and Ginny was actually walking closer. She rolled her eyes.

"Haven't we had this conversation before? Two or three times, maybe? It's getting old, Potter."

"It's different now. Completely different." He sank to the floor and wrapped his hands around his knees. When he spoke next, it was into his hands.

"Please, both of you. I know what you're trying to do. But right now I need to think about all this alone, without worrying about trying to kill the two people I love the most." He wanted them to stay so bad it was almost a physical pain, and for that reason, he forced himself to keep his head down. Because if he had looked either Ron or Ginny in the eye, there was no question that his resolve would have wavered, and then broken.

Harry didn't even try to make out the words of the hushed conversation the two were having above him, but finally he heard their footsteps moving away, the door to the room open and then close. And then, silence.

 _Finally._

 _Alone. Again alone. And completely this time._

 _And Voldemort was inside him. Right Now._

He shuddered as a chill went through him. He could almost _feel_ him inside, like an ache down in his belly. Thinking. Calculating. Planning how next to reach out and hurt those closest to Harry. Part of him knew that was probably not true; Dumbledore had told him a soul was not the same as a brain, but at the moment, the difference was without distinction. This soul bit had already shown it was willing to go beyond the ordinary evil. _It had figured out how to keep all his friends away_. The one thing Harry needed most. First it had made them all mental, and now . . . now it made them all targets.

When Voldemort had possessed his mind at the Department of Mysteries, it had been excruciatingly painful. The flashbacks had not been much better. But now, it wasn't in his head and the real, physical pain was minor, compared to the coldness he felt. Harry shuddered again. He understood why Ginny had gotten sick; the thought of having something so evil inside, directing his actions, probably tainting his own soul, was more than nauseating.

It was just getting worse. It was pushing against him, and Harry felt powerless to push back. The band constricting around his chest reminded him of the statue at the Department of Mysteries that had held him back while Dumbledore fought Voldemort.

Harry let go and gave into the despair that was threatening to drown him anyway. For the first time, there was nothing he could do – no enemy he could fight, because the enemy was _him. Inside him_ , and it would not rest. It had been biding its time, these years, and now it was awake. When it had just been the prophecy, out there, waiting in his future, Harry had had a path. _Him or me_. And now . . . now that was blurred. It was _them._ They were one – Voldemort and him.

 _Neither can live while the other survives._

Of course. He could kill Voldemort, but it wouldn't really matter. Because a piece of him would live on in Harry. And, if Harry fell, first . . .

 _Well then Voldemort has enough other bits of soul to survive. One less won't matter. And I'll be gone._

Hermione and Ron and Luna had been right. Everything that had happened last June had finally been too much. And now there was no going back.

It wouldn't let him move . . . wouldn't let him even lift his arms to try to push away the memories that were assaulting him. Voldemort was there in the middle of it all, he was certain of it. He squeezed his already closed eyes tighter, as if that could keep out the images, keep _him_ away. But there was a . . . presence . . . stronger than ever before . . . trying to capture his own soul. And he didn't want to fight it.

Harry tensed, waiting for the screaming to begin, and the bands around him tensed too.

And then they started to rub, gently, up and down his arms. Harry froze.

 _What the hell?_

"Vol . . . Wha . . .?" He stopped, trying to think. His mind was fuzzy, all of a sudden. And he was warm.

 _Was this some kind of sick joke?_

"Are you ready to pull your head out of your arse and talk to me?"

Harry twisted around and immediately fell over. Confused, he looked down at his arms, which were still wrapped like vices around his knees. He was laying on his side in a ball and listening to the tinkle of laughter above him.

 _"Tom?" he said cautiously. Remember talking to the diary. Don't show fear._

Another laugh. "You wish." The bands that had been around his chest were back, moving him now, until he sat upright. "Look at me, Harry. It's not Tom, I promise."

 _Ginny. Of course._ The cobwebs cleared from Harry's brain and he opened his eyes carefully.

"You're not supposed to be here," he mumbled. He didn't have the energy to fight.

"And you're not supposed to sit and wallow anymore," she said lightly. "I'm not leaving, so you'd better just get used to it."

"Sorry," he muttered. He looked up at her, finally. "I thought . . . " he trailed off, both embarrassed and horrified.

Ginny wasn't upset. "You thought I was Riddle, didn't you? Putting the moves on you or something." She shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

Harry blushed. "It seemed like . . . I mean, it was . . . " He stopped. "You were supposed to leave with Ron." He pushed himself away from her, the delight he felt because she had not, in fact, left, mingling with the persistent worry that this was a _very bad idea_.

"Harry," said Ginny patiently. "A half-hour ago you were telling me that it didn't matter that I'd had his soul in me. Why should it be so different now that it's you?"

"Because he's still there!" Harry ruffled his hair with frustration. "It's not just . . . like . . . well, with you, the soul was in the diary. It just flitted out a bit to make you do things, and then went back. But now, don't you see? _I'm_ the container. Any moment now, that bit of soul could jump out of me and into you, or Ron or Hermione. And I don't know how to stop it!" He put his head back in his hands. Saying the words out loud had made them so much worse. Already his brain was trying to figure out what to do. _He'd have to leave, no question. Go on the run or something. Anything._

"Actually, you do know how to stop it."

Harry was so wrapped up in his own misery that Ginny's words didn't register at first. Neither did the fact that she had scooted closer to him again and threaded her fingers with his, her other hand drifting up and then trailing down his cheek. When he finally realized what she was doing, Harry tried to push her away.

"Ginny," he began, although every fiber of his being was yelling at him to ignore his brain and just let her hand continue its journey, "Ginny, you can't . . . I can't . . . I'm too dangerous," he finished weakly.

Her other hand unclasped from his and moved to join the first. She cradled his face in her hands, brushing her thumb across his cheek. Harry shuddered. "We can't," he whispered.

"Yes, yes we can." Ginny's voice was soft in his ear, her breath was sweet as she brushed her lips against his forehead. "It's how we're supposed to fight it, remember?" Her lips were now moving down across his jawline and Harry was beyond thinking for a moment. "You've always tried to hide yourself away to keep everyone safe," she continued softly. "Now we're going to try it my way."

Harry tried again to protest. "But . . . the Horcrux . . . it could . . . it might . . ." He struggled to put his concerns into words. It was getting harder and harder for him to concentrate, as her hand brushed across the back of his neck and her fingers twisted into his hair, pulling his head towards hers. "It could get inside you," he finally finished, but he couldn't hide the groan of pleasure that escaped him as Ginny's tongue darted out and across his lips.

"It could," Ginny agreed absently, now trying to ply his lips open with soft kisses that made Harry shiver. She stopped for a second and Harry immediately regretted his words. _What if she actually agreed that this was a bad idea?_ She looked severely at him for a moment. "But you brought all of us back today. We all know what to look for now. _I'm_ not at all worried."

She resumed the work with her tongue and Harry relaxed, feeling her grin against his mouth.

"Besides," she said with a smirk, "once that soul-bit sees what I have planned for you in the next hour, it's going to wish it had found a completely different body to inhabit. I promise."

She moved close enough then for one leg to straddle his waist and wrap around his back. With a groan, Harry surrendered completely. He was beyond caring about anything except the feel of Ginny in his arms, and trying to get as close to her as he could.

 _Ginny was right. He needed to stop worrying. Especially when not worrying felt this good._

Harry moved himself nearer, really hoping that she would wrap her other leg around him too. He curled his arms around her back, marveling for a second at how comfortable she felt against him. There was a moment of hesitation when he considered, _I'd really like to touch her bum_ , and a second later, he had slid his hands down to cup both her cheeks and lifted her up into his lap. Ginny wound her other leg around his waist in response – _finally!_ \- and Harry squeezed her to him, pushing the pressure into his lap.

Yesterday he hadn't really focused on what they were doing – pretty much everything had just happened without his thinking about it. He'd felt good – _too good_ , he thought wryly to himself – and that had been more than enough. But now it was more than a fluke, and, despite what Ginny said, more than simply a way to fight the Horcrux. And he wanted to pay attention. Dropping his head back to hers, he met her lips, now using his own tongue to tease her into opening her mouth. She made a noise that sounded kind of like "about time, Potter," but Harry was too busy to pay much attention.

When Harry cupped her bum and pulled her into his lap, Ginny finally gave up on the mental war she'd been having with herself about whether it was right to push him this way. In the past years his bouts of self-guilt and melancholy had become rather legendary around their friends, and she had even heard Ron and Hermione joke once that "what that boy needs is a good shag." But it had been a quite different thing to actually take the initiative, sexually speaking. Especially since she had only just started thinking about him in _that way,_ and, until he kissed her, she had no idea if his feelings were at all the same.

Part of her had been thinking about it ever since.

She probably should have been embarrassed at how far they'd gone. After all, it had taken months before she'd let Michael close enough for her to even be aware of his erections, and when he'd finally started thrusting them against her, she'd been kind of mortified. It had just felt so _wrong,_ seeing him out of control like that. She'd always pulled away before he could finish. Michael took a lot of showers, when they were dating.

Dean had been slightly better – his kisses were sweeter and less sloppily urgent, and she had actually enjoyed some of their more intimate moments – usually. But she had told Harry the truth: even with Dean she had never gone quite as far as the two of them had ended up yesterday. She had never needed to use _that_ particular charm before, although she'd heard her brothers joking enough about it over the years.

Harry thrust against her again, effectively ending _that_ train of thought and Ginny sighed happily to herself. So far, her plan was going even better than she expected. What had not been expected was the fact that her own body was tingling for _more_. In the back of her mind, she had kind of figured she was doing this mostly for Harry, and if she got him to react at all, it would be a good thing. She figured there could be time to focus on her needs some other time. But desire pooled in her belly and made her own thighs clench around his waist; she thrust down as he pushed up into her and she was rewarded both with Harry's moan of enjoyment and a jolt of pleasure between her legs.

Harry pulled back then and looked at her; his face was a picture of awe with just a hint of shyness. "Is this, okay?" he asked hesitantly. Ginny considered just _showing_ him how okay it was, but she suspected he needed a bit more reassurance. She smiled. "It's wonderful, Harry." Although she was pretty sure she knew the answer, she asked the question anyway.

"Is it okay for you?" She wiggled a bit for emphasis at the end, and was rewarded with his gasping reply, "Uh huhhhh. Don't . . . . stop." She giggled and leaned into him for another kiss, rolling her hips in the process and feeling her center move over Harry's erection. He grunted and grabbed the back of her head, pushing his tongue into her mouth and rocking her back and forth above him.

Ginny suspected Harry was already losing control. He was making tiny panting noises as he moved below her and his movements were becoming erratic. "Gotta slow down," he muttered in her ear suddenly. "Don't . . . want to . . . yet." He was leaning against a loveseat that had appeared when Ginny first started kissing him, his legs splayed out in front of him. Almost involuntarily, his hips continued to rise and fall, pushing against Ginny insistently, even while he struggled to control his breathing.

She didn't want him to stop, it felt too good. It had never felt this good before, actually. But a tiny part hinted that she might want to draw things out a little longer, and that regaining some control herself might be the way to go, right now.

Ginny unwound her own legs from Harry's waist and slid herself back just a bit so she was resting on his thighs instead. He stilled too, and Ginny felt a pulsing throb between the two of them; she had no idea if it was his or her own. Harry kept his eyes closed and breathed deeply, in and out through his mouth. His hands were the only thing moving – gently running up her back, through her hair, and then down again to her bum.

After a long moment, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. The look of awe was still there and Ginny felt a strong flash of tenderness. She knew, mostly from Hermione, that things had not gone very far between Harry and Cho, and she felt strangely proud that he was enjoying being with her. The tingling between her legs was not abating, and she was about to scoot back up to Harry's waist when he spoke.

"Is there, ummm, something you want? You know . . . that I can do." He was looking down at the floor, his eyes on a spot to the side, and Ginny saw a blush creep up his cheeks. Cause, umm, you did . . . for me, you know? Earlier?" He looked up at her earnestly.

Ginny stifled a giggle and the urge to say, "yes, Harry, I remember." And actually, given what they'd all been going through, asking if she remembered what had happened between them previously was probably not such a bad idea, she admitted to herself.

He was still looking at her, barely breathing, while he waited for her to answer. Nervously playing with his hair, ruffling it up and down. Ginny guessed that he thought she was a lot more experienced than he was, that everything they were doing was familiar and ordinary to her.

 _Nothing could be further from the truth._

Ginny had never felt _desire_ like this before, never wanted to get closer instead of pulling away. She had never even once thought about uttering the words that came out of her mouth next.

"I want you to touch me."

Harry had barely been able to look at Ginny while he was waiting for an answer to his question. He wasn't sure what scared him more, the thought that Ginny would turn down his offer or the chance that she'd actually _agree_ , and ask for something, and he'd have no idea what to do.

 _The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Maybe it was a bad idea. To ask her. Maybe she thinks I'm pushing her, or maybe she's just doing all this to help me, and she's not really interested herself._

To his credit, Harry dismissed the last idea immediately. He hadn't been oblivious to Ginny's obviously growing arousal; it had been quite amazing, the way she seemed to match him, step for step. He briefly wondered if she'd been like this with any of her previous boyfriends and then just as quickly decided to move away from that thought.

"I want you to touch me."

She spoke quietly but clearly, and Harry heard a much greater want behind her words. Her sudden blush pushed away the worry he felt about what to do and he nodded. _It's all right. She's nervous too._

"Okay."

It got easier, after that. Despite the moment of embarrassment they both suffered when he gently moved Ginny off his lap and the Room created a pile of soft cushions on the floor for her to lie back on, Harry knew that they both wanted this, and that neither of them would let it go farther than was comfortable.

Harry lay down next to her and propped himself up on his side. He really, really wanted to lay down on top of her and push against her to relieve the ache that was building again between his legs, but a dim part of his brain registered that that particular move probably was not what Ginny had in mind. Plus, he was curious to see what he could do. Could he make her feel as good as she did him? What exactly was going to happen?

 _Only one way to find out._

At first, Harry stuck to the now more familiar territory of the smooth skin of her stomach, moving up until his hand touched the underside of her breast, at the edge of her bra. This time, however, he unbuttoned as he went, slowly, to give her time to stop him. Instead, she closed her eyes and lay back more deeply into the cushions, so Harry continued, opening her shirt completely and gazing at her breasts, covered only by a bit of cloth and lace.

A conversation with Sirius, that summer back at Grimmauld Place, popped into his head. Harry still blushed to think about his godfather, sitting with a large glass of Firewhisky, explaining to Harry that "it was time he learned a bit about girls." At that moment, Harry had wished for a large glass of whisky too. It had been an embarrassing, but strangely enlightening conversation, and as the whisky in the bottle got lower, Sirius had become less vague in his explanations and begun giving Harry the kind of advice that he wondered if his father would have thought appropriate for his fifteen-year-old son. One bit had to do with girls and bras; Sirius had been quite adamant that a bloke's ability to smoothly remove the garment was the difference between "getting a handful or two and being sent packing before anything's even unwrapped."

Now, looking at Ginny, Harry wished he had been able to swallow his mortification and ask his godfather exactly how one removed a bra; Harry had no idea.

Ginny smirked up at him. "Guess Bill hasn't gotten to you and Ron yet. He's got a whole lesson on taking off a girl's bra and looking smooth about it." And she reached behind her back and in an instant, had it loosened and sitting on her chest. Harry saw her hands fall away and her blush deepen, and he realized that she had been about to pull the entire thing off herself. He took a deep breath and lifted the straps away.

For a long moment, he could only look, and although part of him hoped he wasn't making her uncomfortable with his staring, most of him just didn't care. Very slowly, he reached out a hand and brushed it across a mound; whether it was his touch or the cool air in the room, he didn't know, but a second later, Ginny shuddered and her nipples hardened under his fingers.

Harry looked swiftly at her face. _Was that okay?_ But Ginny's eyes were closed, and a slight smile played on her lips. Harry brushed his thumb against her hard nipple and she shuddered and sighed. He rolled it in his fingers and she arched up to him. Emboldened, and before he could lose his nerve, Harry dipped his head down to her other breast and licked around the darker center, feeling a shot of heat to his own groin when Ginny groaned and snaked one hand around his back, pulling him closer.

Harry had been balancing himself above Ginny, but her movement made him fall halfway onto her; his swollen penis connecting perfectly with the inside of her thigh and making him hiss with pleasure. He couldn't help rocking back and forth while he took her breast in his mouth and sucked; she rolled her hips in response and Harry almost lost it right then. He lifted himself off of her again, struggling for control, while he contemplated what to do next. And all the while an internal monologue was skipping through his mind – that little bit of him that couldn't believe he was actually _here_. With _Ginny._ Doing . . . well, doing lots of things. Nice things, that were hopefully going to get even nicer.

This kind of thing just didn't happen to him, did it? For a moment, Harry thought again of Sirius. By the time that bottle of Firewhisky was nearly gone, Remus had joined them and his godfather had regaled the two of them with outrageous stories from his time in school, each of them involving a different (utterly beautiful) girl, an outlandish location (the moving stairway up to the Headmaster's office?), and hours of incredible sex. Harry hadn't known whether to be fascinated or horrified, but he was more than relieved when Lupin broke in and ended things after Sirius began his next tale with the words, "Then there was this one time, me and James were in the Shrieking Shack with Lils and her friend. . . " Lupin had dragged Sirius out of the room then, promising Harry a more accurate version of events the next morning. But before Sirius had left, he had reminded Harry that, as the son and godson of two Marauders, he had a lot to live up to when it came to women. Until now, Harry had definitely been letting the Marauders down.

Not tonight, though. But it was different, he could tell already

 _I'm not like Sirius, groping a different girl every night just for the hell of it. This is Ginny. And it's special._ Harry wasn't ready to think that being with Ginny reminded him more of his mum and dad, but the thought danced at the edge of his consciousness anyway.

A second later he had pushed all those thoughts away and focused his full attention back on Ginny. He could have contented himself playing with her breasts for a while longer, but part of him wondered if she was expecting him to go further. He wasn't sure they were ready for that. Everything they had done so far had been sufficient, well, more than sufficient, if he was to be honest, to push away thoughts of the Horcrux and everything they had learned during the day. Going further right now would only take advantage of the situation.

Besides, he knew it was only a matter of time before he and Ginny would be comfortable going further. And when it happened, Harry wanted it to be because they were two randy teenagers who loved each other, not because there was some evil hanging over their heads that they were trying to forget for a while. But what if she felt differently? What if she expected more? The part of him that knew Ginny pretty well was confident that she was perfectly happy with the way things were, right now. But the smaller, still-inexperienced, insecure part of him wondered if she was waiting for something more, or even comparing him to her previous boyfriends.

Consumed by his thoughts, he moved himself back up to her face, kissing her softly while he contemplated what to do. Finally he propped himself up on his arms and looked down at her. She looked back at him with an unreadable expression that didn't help him at all. _Should he just continue and see what she wanted to do?_

He took a deep breath. Ginny bit her bottom lip.

And suddenly, the cushions she was lying back on disappeared and Harry only just got his hand under her head in time to keep it from smacking against the floor.

They looked at each other, shocked, and then a relieved chuckle escaped from Harry's lips. Ginny grinned at him. "Well, that's good to know," she said.

Harry lowered himself back down to her, wrapping his arms securely around her back.

"Thank you," he mumbled into her neck.


	14. The Unbreakable Vow

A/N: This is a fairly short bridge chapter, but it has a couple of important clues about the second half of the story. The next (more emotional) chapter will be along shortly.

It was very late by the time Harry and Ginny finally crept out of the Room of Requirement and snuck back through the corridors towards Gryffindor Tower. Harry was cursing himself for forgetting his Invisibility Cloak; now that his thoughts were so much less muddled, he remembered Dumbledore advising him to keep it on his person at all times from now on. He and Ginny held hands the entire way but didn't utter word, nervous that Peeves or Mrs. Norris or even Snape would discover them out of bed.

One odd thing happened, too. Just outside the door to the Room, Harry and Ginny ducked behind a tapestry that was the quickest shortcut back to the more populated parts of the castle. Just inside the hidden passageway, they found a small pile of first-year textbooks and a plateful of crumbs.

"Looks like Malfoy had someone watching the Room for a while," he muttered, pushing the plate aside with the toe of his trainer. "Probably waiting until we left so he could get in to do . . . well, whatever it is he's been up to." He looked at Ginny. "We need to start keeping a better eye on him, now that all this . . . other mess is better."

She squeezed his hand. "I bet Ron and Hermione and the rest will want to help now, too."

That thought cheered Harry enough to keep him from brooding too much while they walked, although bits and pieces of the afternoon's events filtered in anyway. He tried to tell himself that worrying right now wasn't going to do anyone any good, tried to remind himself that things were so much better than they had been since June. But part of him couldn't ignore the image of Fate, back again, not cackling and yelling this time, but just rubbing its hands together sneakily, knowing that the next shoe was going to drop.

Harry sighed. How very maudlin of him. As if reading his thoughts, Ginny squeezed his hand and then knocked her hip into his.

"Come on, Harry, no more moping. I mean it."

He forced a smile onto his face and looked down at her. "How do you know I was moping?"

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "I've been watching your every move since I was ten, Potter, I know all your moods."

This surprised Harry. "Really? You've been watching me? All that time? I thought . . . well, Hermione told me you'd gotten over all that."

Ginny didn't even blush this time. "Given up on, not gotten over." She shrugged. "Although, I guess I just admitted that I didn't even really give up on you either."

This gave Harry something to think about. _What's she implying?_ Before he could even process her words, they had reached the portrait hole.

The Fat Lady smiled at them. "Any more kissy kissy for me to watch, dearies?"

"No," said Harry firmly, giving the password.

"Fine, then," harrumphed the Fat Lady, swinging the door open. "Leave me here, alone."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ginny and climbed through the door. It was almost 2 a.m. – classes tomorrow were going to be a nightmare – and Harry was looking forward to a nice goodnight snog with Ginny in the empty common room before they both went up to bed.

He was more than surprised to see they were not alone. Ron, Hermione and Neville were all sitting near the fire. Obviously waiting for them.

Harry stumbled to a stop, his brain still half wrapped around thoughts of kissing Ginny goodnight.

 _What were they doing here?_ His first assumption was that they had changed their minds about him; decided he was dangerous after all. His second was that somehow, in the short time since the others had left the Room of Requirement, the Horcrux had figured out yet another way to separate them from him. His stomach sunk as he took in their faces. Serious, and sleepy. Then Ron raised his eyebrows.

"How about we agree that neither of you are going to mention anything that you've been doing for the past hour – ever. Okay?"

Harry let out his breath and grinned. "Like I'd want you to know that I've been snogging your sister."

Ron put his fingers in his ears and screwed his eyes shut. "I'm not listening, I'm not listening, I'm not listening," he chanted.

Ginny walked forward and pulled Ron's fingers out of his ears. "Grow up, Ronald. It's not like you haven't made us watch you slobbering all over the place with Lavender all year."

Ron suddenly looked embarrassed. Harry stiffened, waiting for Hermione's reaction. But she seemed kind of . . . smug?

"Well, umm, I, ummm, kind of broke up with Lavender. Earlier."

Harry didn't know what to say to this. Sorry? He wasn't. Why? He really didn't want to know.

Ginny grinned. "About time."

 _That'll work._ "Yeah, Ron. About time."

Ron shrugged. "She didn't like me running off after you with Hermione. I told her there were some things that were more important than snogging and if she couldn't understand that, then maybe we shouldn't go out anymore.

"Wow, Ron." Harry was impressed.

To her credit, Hermione didn't say anything, but Harry didn't think they should dwell on the issue either. Particularly as it was nearly 2 a.m. and he still didn't have any idea why his three friends were still awake.

"Is there a reason you guys are still up?" Harry asked. "Other than waiting to see if Ginny and I missed curfew, of course."

It was Neville who spoke first. "We wanted to make sure everything was okay," he said. "Things were kind of . . . up in the air, when we left. And we wanted to make sure you know that we are going to help you however we can. Luna too."

"No matter what," put in Hermione. "I'm already making a list of places to look for information on Horcruxes, although, now that I think about it, maybe I should just go back to the Room of Requirement." She broke off her musing, looking thoughtful, and pulling out a piece of parchment that already seemed to be covered with notes.

"And that goes for whatever other help you need, too," said Ron. He looked sheepish for a moment. "I . . . I can't believe I didn't believe you when you thought there was something suspicious about Draco. I mean, when has that Slytherin git ever done anything on the up and up? If you think he's a Death Eater, I say we try to catch him before he does something really awful."

Harry stood there in shock, barely even feeling the warm pressure of Ginny's hand as she pressed it into his. He would never have guessed that his friends would be so . . . supportive, or normal so quickly. He desperately hoped it was not another trick, not another way for the Horcrux to get him to let his guard down before snatching it all away, like it had when it started affecting Ginny. He wouldn't allow himself to believe that, he decided. These were this closest friends, and having them here was the best way to fight the evil – he was sure of it. And that none of them had shied away from him, even knowing what he was, well, that was nearly priceless.

He just wished he knew how to tell them how much it meant.

"I . . . I really appreciate that," he finally stammered. "Having all of you helping me, well, it's almost more important than actually figuring out what I'm going to do about it – almost," he added, as he heard Hermione huff. Can't deprive her the chance to research. He yawned enormously. The day seemed to have lasted a hundred hours, and suddenly he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Why don't we figure out a time to all talk, tomorrow," he said.

"Maybe we can use our DA Galleons," said Neville excitedly, "to fix a time to meet."

Harry couldn't help but grin at his friend's enthusiasm for a task that could end up another bloodbath.

"Great idea, Neville," he approved. "But now I really have to go to sleep, or Snape'll probably try to drown me in my cauldron tomorrow."

Neville disappeared up the stairs immediately, and Harry rather hoped that Ron and Hermione would follow suit so that he could give Ginny a proper goodnight kiss, but both of them seemed strangely reluctant to leave. Ginny had a strange expression on her face as she watched them, half calculating, half amused. Hermione was gathering her things together very slowly, and Ron was dawdling around helping her, giving Harry and Ginny glances out of the corner of his eye.

Finally Ginny grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him to her; Harry would never have had the courage to make the first move to stand that close to her – she was practically wrapped around him – with Ron nearby. But Ron didn't seem to notice, even when Ginny rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to Harry's. After a moment, he forgot about their audience and merely concentrated on kissing her back.

After another moment, he wondered vaguely if he was really as tired as he thought he was, or if, perhaps, there was time to satisfy the sudden desire that ripped through him, causing himself to thrust almost involuntarily against Ginny. With a sigh and an enormous amount of effort, he pulled himself away and gave her a final kiss on her forehead. "Wait for me for breakfast?" he asked her.

Ginny's face was flushed from their goodnight kiss, and her breathless answer almost made Harry grab her again. "Of course."

Only after they pulled apart did Harry glance over to see Ron's reaction to the display. He almost fell over with shock when he realized that Ron was completely oblivious to what Harry and Ginny had been doing.

He was leaning over the desk where Hermione still had a large parchment spread out, looking at it seriously with her, his hand resting – unconsciously or not, Harry couldn't tell – on her arm.

Harry bit back a dozen comments and merely raised his eyebrows at Ginny before kissing her lightly once more and heading up to bed.

The next day was both wonderful and terrible. Wonderful because Harry sat with Ron and Hermione and Ginny and Neville at breakfast (and Luna even strolled over to warn them against eating any of the marmalade, which she contended was infested with Nargles). He enjoyed watching Parvati's eyes bug out as he kissed Ginny at the table, and was thrilled (only probably only half as much as Hermione), that Lavender sat far away and didn't look at any of them. Harry was not particularly surprised when another terrified first year found him to deliver a note setting his next meeting with Dumbledore for Wednesday evening. But this time, before sending it back, he scrawled a note for the Headmaster at the bottom:

 _I'm bringing everyone else with me._

Harry didn't really care if Dumbledore minded sharing the rest of his knowledge with Harry's friends; they deserved to know, and, more than that, Harry knew he needed their help.

The day was terrible because, not only was Harry absolutely exhausted, but attending his classes for the first time without the haze of the Horcrux clouding him was overwhelming. Not only was Harry behind in his classes, but there seemed to be an air of unease permeating the school. He couldn't tell if it was his imagination or whether many of the students really were shying away from him. And the fact that Harry had no idea if it had been like this all year was even more upsetting.

And Snape! Harry couldn't believe he hadn't been bothered by it before – the man was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts! In class, Ron muttered that if Snape was such an expert, why hadn't he figured out that Harry was possessed? Harry didn't answer; he was too busy watching Draco, who seemed nervous and even more pale than usual. Whatever it was he was trying to do in the Room of Requirement didn't seem to be going very well.

After class, as planned, Harry and Ron followed Malfoy as he headed again towards the Room of Requirement. Several times, they thought Malfoy had almost seen them, and Harry realized ruefully that he and Ron were a bit out of practice in sneaking around together. During several whispered conversations between – and during – class that day they had debated what exactly to do. Ron was all for trying to grab Malfoy as the door appeared and forcing their way into the Room with him. Harry wasn't sure they could time it right and worried they might give too much away if Malfoy saw them before the Room transformed. He wanted to work more on trying to get the door opened while Malfoy was already inside. They finally agreed to play it by ear when they got close.

Apparently, their sneaking around was not quiet enough, though. As they rounded the last corner before the one leading to the blank bit of wall where the door would appear, there was Malfoy, leaning against a suit of armor, clearly waiting for them.

"Awww, how sweet, Potty and the Weasel, together again," he drawled with a bored look on his face. "Or are you looking for somewhere private so that Ron can beat the hell out of you for snogging his baby sister?" Harry did bother asking how Malfoy knew about him and Ginny; he could see that, despite his attempts at bravado, the Slytherin was nervous; he fingered the edge of his robes as he watched them, clearly unsure how much they knew.

Harry took a chance. "Sod off, Malfoy. We know what's going on. How can you really think that you're powerful enough to be a Death Eater? Do you really think Voldemort sees you as a replacement for your father? Or merely a punishment for his sins?"

His words hit the mark, Harry could tell. Malfoy paled even more, his eyes darting from side to side as if wondering where Crabbe and Goyle had gone. But Harry and Ron knew they were not around; they'd seen them on the Map, heading for the Slytherin Common Room.

"The Dark Lord knows what he's doing," said Malfoy, and Harry could see how hard he worked to force a smirk back onto his face. "And it's people like you and the blood traitor Weasels and the Mudbloods who are a going to be punished." He stopped, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Of course, maybe you want to try to figure out what's going on first?" He backed away towards the wall where the door to the RoR usually appeared and waved at it.

"I'll make a deal with you, Potter. I'll show you exactly what I'm doing in the Room, if you give me that bottle of Felix Felicis you won."

"And how do we know you won't make something up?" Ron broke in harshly.

"The Room won't lie," retorted Draco. "If I ask it to show you the room I've been working in, it will." He smirked. "Don't you want to know?" He paused. "Of course, we'll have to make an Unbreakable Vow that you won't go blabbing to Dumbledore or any of the other professors. they'll know soon enough, anyway."

Harry paused. "You'd have to agree to something too, then," he said slowly. "Like we can tell our friends. And try to stop you."

Draco paused, then nodded jerkily. "As if you could stop me," he sneered, and Harry knew he was frightened. He'd probably made the offer half in jest, not expecting Harry to accept it and now he couldn't back down. Next to him, Ron grabbed his arm. "Are you sure Harry? That Felix stuff could be really useful."

"So's learning what Malfoy is up to," whispered Harry back. "And anyway, I have a plan."

"To get around the Vow?" Ron asked sharply. "Don't even think about it. If you break it, you die."

"Not that . . ." Harry began, but Malfoy interrupted.

"Are we going to do this or what?"

Harry looked at him. "Yeah. We're going to do this." He shrugged at Ron. He'd tell him later that he was planning on giving Malfoy only half the potion in the bottle, and keeping the rest for himself. That wouldn't violate the Vow.

Harry had never seen one performed before. Malfoy explained what to do and he and Harry knelt on the floor, grasping arms. Harry couldn't help but nudge the sleeve of Draco's left arm a bit, and he huffed in satisfaction when the other boy jumped and pulled his arm back, pulling the sleeve farther down his arm, before taking Harry's hands again.

Ron stood over them with his wand. "Draco Malfoy, do you make an Unbreakable Vow that you will reveal to Harry Potter everything that you have been working on for Voldemort in the Room of Requirement?"

Draco jumped at the sound of the name, but swallowed harshly before nodding and saying, "I do."

A shining green rope flew out of the end of Ron's wand and wrapped around the clasped hands.

Ron's voice trembled a bit as he asked the next question. "Harry P-p-potter, do you make an Unbreakable Vow that you will not reveal to anyone other than a current student at Hogwarts what you learn from Malfoy in the Room of Requirement?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, watching the wand quivering in Ron's hand. "I . . ." he began. Suddenly, Draco screamed in pain and grabbed his arm and the green rope that had been shining around him and Harry blew apart and disappeared. Ron was thrown backwards against the wall from the force of the spell dissipating and Harry heard a roaring in his ears and his head that pushed him back to the Ministry of Magic again. He put his hands on his head, trying to dispel the images assaulting him, only vaguely aware of Draco and Ron yelling at each other above him.

 _Think of something else . . . Ginny. Think of Ginny._ Just her name helped spread a new warmth through him and he was able to relax and sit up. Just in time, apparently, because Ron and Draco were facing each other, wands out, both looking furious.

"What the hell did you do, Weasley? You could have killed both of us!"

"I didn't do anything!" screamed Ron. "It's your Dark Mark. It kept me from finishing the Vow."

"Bullshit," said Draco. "People make Unbreakable Vows with the Dark Mark all the time. It's part of the . . ." His voice broke off and he looked terrified to realize he had just admitted.

"Forget it," said Harry heavily. He knew exactly what had prevented him from making the Vow. He just didn't want to clue Ron into what was going on until they could get away from Malfoy and find Hermione and Ginny and the others. "It was probably a bad idea anyway." He forced himself to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Guess you're going to have to finish your precious project for your Lord without any help," he said, noting with satisfaction that Draco's face paled at the thought that he was not going to be getting the good luck potion after all.

"This isn't over," he muttered to them, lifting his wand threateningly.

"Potter, Weasley! What are you doing here, so far from the Gryffindor Common Room?" Professor Snape whirled towards them, robe flapping around him, looking furious.

"We were just talking with Draco," said Ron. "Who happens to be even farther from the Slytherin Common Room," he added.

"That is none of your business. Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek. Now get out of here before I make it twenty."

Snape wasn't even paying much attention to Ron and Harry, so focused was he on Malfoy. He was staring into his face with an expression Harry recognized as Snape attempting Legilimency. Draco was staring back just as intently; apparently he was better at Occlumency than Harry had ever been. Snape broke his gaze. "Auntie Bella's been teaching you, apparently. Don't keep me out, Draco. I . . . " he looked up then, and saw Ron and Harry still standing there.

"Get out!" he roared, and shot something at them out of his wand. Suddenly it was as if a brick wall was bearing down on them, pushing them down the corridor. Harry and Ron couldn't help but retreat, and as they rounded the corner they heard Snape say, "My office. Now. You have a lot to answer for, Draco."


	15. After the Vow

Predictably, Hermione was furious.

"An Unbreakable Vow? With Malfoy? Are you mental? You could have been killed!" Harry was about to defend himself, but Hermione had turned to round on Ron.

"How could you let him do something like that, Ronald? I thought you had more sense!"

Ron's mouth opened and closed several times like a fish before he found his voice. "What are you blaming me for? It wasn't me on my knees holding hands with Malfoy. I tried to stop him!"

"Obviously you didn't try hard enough," huffed Hermione. "If it hadn't been for the . . . the . . ." She turned to Harry, a confused look on her face. "What _did_ stop you?"

"The Horcrux," said Harry heavily. "It didn't seem to like the idea of me making an Unbreakable Vow any more than you do."

"Hmmm. Interesting." Hermione looked pensive for a moment. "I'll have to . . . right." She shook herself out of whatever she'd been considering and turned back to Ron. "But that doesn't let you off the hook! You're supposed to be helping him, not throwing him to the Slytherins! Or did you forget that most of their parents are Death Eaters?"

It didn't look like she was going to be done yelling any time soon. Oddly, Ron didn't seem too upset about it either. He just kept alternately apologizing and trying to fight back, a strange half smile on his face.

Harry looked hesitantly at Ginny, who had been sitting quietly next to him in the Common Room while Hermione raged. "Are you going to yell too?"

Ginny smiled. "I think Hermione is doing just fine. Try to pay attention to her every couple of minutes and we'll call it even."

Harry grinned at her and squeezed her hand. "Thanks."

Ginny grinned back, then grimaced. "Not that I think making an Unbreakable Vow with Malfoy is a good idea, understand. And with my brother as bonder?" She raised her eyebrows. "Still," she admitted. "It sounds like you were really close to finding out what Malfoy was up to."

Neville frowned. He'd been watching the interplay between Ron and Hermione with wide eyes, but now he turned his attention back to Harry and Ginny. "I've been wondering about that," he began slowly. "Doesn't it strike you as . . . weird, that he would be so willing to tell you what he was doing?"

Harry sat up. Neville usually didn't volunteer his ideas. He was supremely loyal and always eager to stand by and help however he could, but generally left the planning and theorizing up to the others. But Neville had also been on the receiving end of much of Malfoy's cruelty and Harry knew he trusted the Slytherin even less than Harry or Ron did.

"What do you mean, Neville?" Harry asked.

"Well . . . remember first year, when he tricked you and Ron into sneaking out at night for a duel?"

Next to Harry, Ron grimaced. All these years later, it still irked him to have fallen for such a scheme. Neville continued.

"You thought he was trying to pick a fight, but actually, he just wanted to get you both in trouble. And then, later that year, he lured me out after curfew with that story about the dragon."

"But that one was true," Hermione interrupted. "There _was_ a dragon."

"Yeah," agreed Neville, "but Malfoy didn't tell me the story simply because he thought I would be interested. His real purpose was something else – to get all of us in trouble again."

"So, what are you saying?" asked Harry. "You think Malfoy wanted to make an Unbreakable Vow to get me in some sort of trouble?"

Next to him, Ginny snorted. "I'm _sure_ he wanted to get you in trouble," she said. "But I think I understand what Neville's saying. I'll bet he never intended to just let you find out what he was doing in the Room, he must have had some other motive."

"But he was going to make a Vow," said Ron. "He would have died if he didn't fulfill it."

"Maybe he knew there was nothing that important in the Room for Harry to see," said Hermione, thinking hard. "Maybe . . . he's working on something in there, but he was counting on the fact that it wouldn't make sense to Harry if he did see it." She frowned. "Or maybe it's something else. Because Ron's right. He was taking a huge risk, making that Vow. He must be really desperate for some reason."

It didn't escape Harry's notice that Ron blushed and sat up straighter when Hermione agreed with his theory. Ginny hadn't missed the interplay either, and Harry heard her quietly giggle next to him. He put his arm around her and squeezed. "I wish they would just snog already," he whispered to her.

"Seriously," she replied under her breath.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Ron, suddenly suspicious.

"Just wondering what Luna would say about all this," replied Harry innocently. "I bet she'll have lots of theories about what Malfoy is up to."

"Most of them having to do with mythical creatures no one has ever seen before, I bet," said Hermione dryly.

Albus Dumbledore flicked his wand and six comfortable chairs appeared in a semi-circle in front of him. He moved the Pensieve to the center of his desk and pulled two small bottles out of a cabinet. All the time, his mind was whirling in thought. Harry had asked him . . . no, actually, Harry had _informed_ him, that he was bringing his closest friends to this meeting. Something had changed. Maybe, many things had changed.

Obviously, Harry had been successful in reconnecting with his friends. In the scheme of things, that was probably going to be the easiest part, Dumbledore reflected. It was quite The question was, had Harry realized exactly what had been hurting all of them in the first place? Would Harry have connected the evil feelings inside him to a bit of Voldemort's soul? Dumbledore wasn't sure; it had taken several days of introspection to be sure himself, and this was with him knowing that Harry _was_ a Horcrux. But even with his knowledge of how the soul-bit in the diary had taken on a life of its own, Harry's situation perplexed him. Maybe it was because Harry was also a living being, or maybe it was because the Horcrux inside him had to constantly battle with Harry's own good, pure soul, but Dumbledore could not have conceived of such evil, until he saw it with his own eyes.

He wasn't entirely certain how much Harry had absorbed of their discussions about Horcruxes, and the Headmaster was prepared to repeat himself if necessary. He knew he would have to share his knowledge with Harry's friends too, if Harry had not already done so. But could he sit here, now, and calmly tell Harry that he had no choice but to die? Professor Dumbledore was not nearly as certain.

Taking his friends with him to see Dumbledore certainly made for a noisier meeting, Harry reflected as he watched them all in the Headmaster's office. He was glad he had thought to tell them not to bring up the Horcruxes until Dumbledore did; Hermione looked ready to start peppering the Headmaster with questions the second they all got off the moving staircase, and Ron, he knew, wanted to yell at the man for what he saw as an attempt to hide things from Harry.

The two boys had talked about it earlier.

"But wouldn't it have made more sense to tell you as soon as he knew?" Ron protested. "You could have fought back much earlier and avoided all this mess."

"I think he wanted to protect me," Harry had said. "And, knowing everything I do now, I can't exactly blame him. I mean, would I really have wanted to know about the prophecy earlier? This way I had almost five years being able to enjoy myself at school."

Ron had let it drop then, but Harry knew he didn't exactly agree. He was just glad Ron was controlling his urge to yell.

Harry himself kept tight hold of Ginny's hand. Even though he understood more why being around Dumbledore created so many uncomfortable feelings inside him, it was not at all pleasant to think that the Horcrux was both cowering from the only one Voldemort had ever feared, and yet, still trying to hurt Harry. Harry started getting a headache almost the moment they arrived; he tried not to look at Dumbledore's withered hand or the cracked black ring, but he couldn't keep the dizzy feeling completely at bay.

Dumbledore motioned for everyone to sit down. He himself took a seat at his desk and looked gravely at the students from behind his half-moon spectacles. No one spoke.

Harry felt like he should be the one to say something. He was the one who'd insisted that everyone come with him, after all. But he wasn't sure what to say. Just blurting it out – "Hey! I'm a Horcrux, did you know that?" – seemed kind of wrong. Besides, he was almost positive Dumbledore already knew.

But the silence was stretching and everyone was beginning to look at him expectantly.

"Well . . . ummm . . . yeah," he began, completely ineffectual. He addressed himself straight to Dumbledore. "I told them everything," he finally said.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what exactly is _everything?_ "

Harry suddenly felt impatient. "Look, I know, okay? I know that I'm a . . . a Horcrux." He watched Dumbledore's face carefully for a reaction. The barest tightening of his lips was the only outward sign that he'd heard Harry's words. But he didn't disagree.

If Harry had harbored even the smallest hope that he had somehow been wrong, it was gone as soon as he saw Dumbledore's face. He sagged in his seat, feeling Ginny's hand tighten in his. "And I don't blame you for not telling me."

The Headmaster's smile was sad. "Thank you, Harry," he said quietly. "I . . . I wanted to tell you. You deserve to know, of course, but at the same time . . . your ignorance might have allowed you a few more years of bliss." The man sighed. "Unfortunately, it seems that bit of Riddle has other plans.

Hermione spoke up then. "Sir . . . Professor," she began hesitantly. "Can you tell us, if you know, _how_ Harry became a Horcrux? Because I've been reading about them, and I thought the wizard making one had to set certain spells and things first, and have a very strong intent. How could he make one in Harry . . . accidentally?"

Dumbledore peered at her, his eyes twinkling a little more brightly. "I had all the books about Horcrux creation removed from this school's library years ago," he said. "It doesn't surprise me that you were able to find a way around my protections, I suppose." He smiled at Hermione.

"You are right, of course. Voldemort _did_ have the specific intent to make a Horcrux the night he tried to kill Harry. He planned to use Harry's death as the motivator; what object he intended to use, I've never discovered for certain. What he didn't anticipate, as we know, was that he would not be able to kill Harry night. However, his soul, already ripped apart so many times, was terribly unstable. When his curse rebounded, it tore off yet another piece, and that piece embedded itself in Harry, with the only outward sign being his scar."

Harry tuned out. Maybe it was a result of hearing it all set out like that, but his scar was throbbing in his head and he was dizzy. He swallowed hard, and suddenly, Ginny's breath was in his ear.

"Harry? Are you okay? You look pale."

Harry squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manor and whispered back. "I'll be fine. It's just . . . being in here, it makes the Horcrux more active. I always feel kind of sick in Dumbledore's office."

She didn't ask him again, but Harry caught Ginny giving him concerned glances out of the corner of her eye while Dumbledore caught the others up on his theories about what objects Voldemort had used for his Horcruxes, and where they might be hidden.

Harry closed his eyes. The longer he listened, the more difficult it was to focus on anything except the pounding in his head. He really did not want to get sick here, again. Tuning out the voices helped a bit, and he tried not to listen and Hermione pestered the Headmaster yet again on why Voldemort might had hidden a bit of his soul in his snake, and Luna and Neville disagreed with each other about whether a Horcrux could have been hidden in one of the rare Vault plants in Greenhouse Five, since no one could figure out how to get them to open their pods.

Finally, Dumbledore lifted his hands for quiet.

"I originally asked Harry here to view another memory," he said. "One showing what I suspect to be another of the objects Tom Riddle stole to turn into a Horcrux." The Headmaster's voice turned grave.

"I don't think I need to impress upon you the importance of keeping secret everything Harry has already shared with you and everything you're learning here tonight. This information, if it falls into the wrong hands, could have catastrophic consequences."

Everyone nodded solemnly. Dumbledore continued. "I trust each and every one of you – you have more than proven that you have the right to this knowledge by your actions last June at the Ministry and by the very fact that the Horcrux itself has identified you as those individuals closest to Harry." Each of his friends smiled at this thought; Neville looked both embarrassed and delighted at being named as one of Harry's closest companions.

"But I no longer leave anything to chance," continued Dumbledore. "Which is why I must ask each of you to enter into a binding magical contract swearing yourselves to secrecy in the matters related to the Horcrux. You will be able to share your knowledge with no one other than myself or each other until such time as I lift the charm." His eyes suddenly twinkled merrily.

"Don't look so serious, now! You all signed something similar last year when you joined Dumbledore's Army, and none of you seem to have a pimple in sight. This isn't an Unbreakable Vow or anything."

"Good thing there," muttered Ron. "Harry already almost did one of those with Malfoy,"

All hell pretty much broke loose after that. Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Harry thought Death Eaters must have burst in behind them; he hadn't seen such a look on the Headmaster's face since he had fought Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic.

"What was the promise?" he asked sharply. When no one answered, he turned to Harry. "What did you and Draco say to each other? Tell me _exactly._ "

As soon as the Headmaster spoke, the headache that had been spinning on the edges of Harry's brain broke through with such ferocity that he saw spots. He was barely aware of the groan that escaped his lips or that he suddenly lurched forward to put his head in his hands.

"Harry, what is it?" Ginny's voice was low in his ear. Harry couldn't answer. He was only vaguely aware of Dumbledore's voice, and the sudden silver blur that shot by the side of his face only made him more dizzy. He closed his eyes and wished it would all go away.

"Hold on, Harry, we're taking you to the Hospital Wing." Ginny's voice was back.

There was a roaring in his head and tightness in his throat that felt nothing like the pain from Voldemort or the Horcrux; no memories or flashbacks or voices interrupted the dizziness and dull ache that made him feel like he suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. He opened his mouth to try to respond to Ginny, but he could barely make his lips move enough to form a sound.

"K," he finally mumbled. Dimly, he was aware of being lifted into the air, of floating, and of questioning voices below him. Nothing made sense, and as he floated further, everything around him slowly faded away to blackness.

Madame Pomfrey huffed again as she waved her wand in a complex pattern over Harry, but Ginny did nothing more than shift to one side so that she didn't interrupt the charm – just as she had done the last two times the Matron had performed the spell. Earlier, she had thrown a fit worthy of her mother when the Healer had tried to get her to leave Harry's side. She wouldn't have left anyway, but Dumbledore's agreement that she should stay sealed her position, and so she was still here, three hours later, waiting for him to wake up.

The rest of the group had finally left with the Headmaster after telling him everything they knew about the almost-Vow between Harry and Malfoy. Ginny glanced over at the far end of the ward. Draco was now laying prone in a bed himself, subject to the same charms Madame Pomfrey was performing every hour on Harry. But he should be waking up soon, Ginny gathered. The absence of a Horcrux inside him meant that the magical residue from the aborted Vow was not nearly as damaging to him.

Ginny shivered, trying not to think of the first minutes after their arrival in the Hospital Wing. Harry had been nearly unconscious at that point. Dumbledore had been firing questions at all of them as they transported Harry in a conjured stretcher – Ron was really the only one who could answer most of them – and even he wasn't sure what had happened to stop Harry and Malfory from completing the bonding. The Headmaster had spoken briefly to Madame Pomfrey and then waved his wand at her several times until she nodded and began working over Harry. Then he had turned to the rest of them.

"Unbreakable Vows are dangerous magic, even when performed by two fully willing and competent _adult_ wizards," he said, no hint of a smile on his face. "Even though they are not of age, Harry and Draco obviously both have enough magic for the Vow to have begun to attach to them. One cannot simply stop a Vow in the middle without their being physical consequences. Mr. Malfoy will be arriving shortly so that Madame Pomfrey can remove any lingering traces on him as well.

"Is Draco unconscious now, too?" Luna had asked.

"No. The affects on Draco will likely be much less severe." He turned back to Ron. "You're certain that the only thing Malfoy promised out loud was to let Harry into the Room of Requirement to see what he was doing there?"

"That's all," agreed Ron. "And Harry agreed not to tell any adult what he saw, and to give Malfoy the bottle of Felix Felicis he'd won from Professor Slughorn."

At this point, Ginny had been unable to keep quiet. Harry was too still and pale; he barely seemed to be breathing. She'd been holding his hand, kneading it between her fingers, trying to get him to show some life. So far, nothing had worked.

"But is he going to be okay?"

Dumbledore looked grave. "I certainly hope so." He paused, looking over to where Madame Pomfrey was, across the room. He dropped his voice. "But Harry's unique, _situation_ makes things more difficult. I don't believe Mr. Malfoy was being completely honest with you when he made his Vow. I am quite sure he truly wanted that bottle of Felix, but I don't think that was all. He must have had another purpose, a more _dangerous_ purpose, for Harry."

"Just like you thought, Neville." Ginny had remembered the other boy's suspicion that Draco had another reason for trying to get Harry into the Room.

"And the Horcrux felt it, and tried to fight to protect itself," finished Hermione.

"Correct," Dumbledore had said gravely. "Had the Vow been completed, it would have created obligations and conditions in Harry and Malfoy. And Harry's reaction indicates that those obligations likely would have put the Horcrux – and Harry, for that matter, at risk of destruction. It fought back. First, by making it impossible for the boys to complete the Vow, and again, by fighting against the bits of residual magic left over after the attempt." He sighed. "When I asked Harry to tell me everything that he had said to Draco, I triggered that magic – because part of the Vow was not to tell any adults what he knew. We're lucky the two of them only completed the first bond. If they had finished two out of three, the results would have been even worse.

Soon afterwards, Draco had arrived with Professor Snape . The boy's look of confusion at being summoned changed to fear, barely masked by derision when he had taken in the sight of the other students, still gathered around Harry's bed. But the Headmaster had acted rapidly, placing him under a spell and laying him, apparently sleeping, in a bed, before he could say a word. Dumbledore had spoken quietly to Snape; the other man had looked frustrated and shook his head before he'd swept out of the room without sparing a single glance across the ward.

Then Ginny had fought with Madame Pomfrey over leaving, and Dumbledore had allowed her to stay. Before he left, the Headmaster had warned her that the Matron did not know the full extent of Harry's situation; he'd placed a Confundus charm to allow her to treat him fully without understanding exactly what was going on. If Harry's situation deteriorated, Ginny was to contact him immediately.

And now, here she was, still sitting. Madame Pomfrey was working over Draco; he seemed to be waking. Ginny watched as the Matron nodded to herself and then threw a bit of floo powder into the fire.

"Severus!"

Professor Snape's head appeared in the flames. "What is it, Poppy?" Is he awake?"

"Just about. I suppose you can come talk to him now," she replied.

Quickly, Ginny dug into the pocket of her robes. Not for nothing was she Fred and George's little sister. There were a number of items she had on her person at all times, just . . . in case. This was definitely one of those times, and it took her only seconds to unroll an Extendable Ear and send it snaking across the floor of the ward, against the wall, until it stopped under Malfoy's bed. Quickly, she pulled one of the room dividers around Harry's bed and the chair where she was sitting and then sat down, putting the end of the flesh-colored string into her ear.

Draco groaned and slowly opened his eyes. He felt like he'd been hit over the head with a Bludger and he had no idea what he was doing in the Hospital Wing. He vaguely remembered walking that way with Professor Snape, and being annoyed that the man seemed furious with him, yet wouldn't tell him why. Then everything got fuzzy.

Snape had been bothering him all year, trying to get Draco to tell him more about his project for the Dark Lord. Acting as if he knew everything already, as if really wanted to help, instead of merely taking over and stealing all the glory. It was taking all of Draco's concentration to keep up his Occlumency shields so that Snape couldn't get into his thoughts. The Potions master didn't need to know that Draco himself was only vaguely aware of Voldemort's ultimate goal; he had his orders and he was going to follow them, no matter what. A Malfoy had always been one of the Dark Lord's closest confidants, and that was not about to change now.

Still, he couldn't always keep hidden the creeping worry that everything was not going the way it needed to. His master had not given him a deadline for completing the tasks, but Draco knew he would not be patient. And it was no use pretending to the Dark Lord that he'd made much progress at all; other than his early meeting with Borgin, Draco had not been able to accomplish anything in pursuit of either of his goals. He could only hope that Lord Voldemort did not decide to check on his progress personally; the thought of having to account for his failure made Draco physically sick.

And what was worse, for a brief moment, he'd gotten so close to success. When Potter had agreed to the Unbreakable Vow and given Draco his hands, it had taken all his control not to sneer in his face at the other boy's stupidity. He had been only minutes away from being able to deliver on both of his assignments. The so-called "Chosen One" would be no more and neither would that wreck of a man he looked to as mentor. But it had all fallen apart and Draco had no idea why. He only knew that the scared, sick feeling he had harbored in the pit of his stomach ever since he'd stood before his master and taken the Mark had gotten only worse in the past days.

The fear he couldn't reveal to anyone was threatening to overtake him, and Malfoy fought to push it to the back of his brain. For a distraction, he turned over in the hospital bed and looked down the ward. All the other beds were empty, although the one against the farthest wall was surrounded by a screen. He thought he should remember who was behind it, but his mind wouldn't let him focus. He was about to call for Madame Pomfrey when the door to the ward open and Professor Snape swept in.

At once, the fear he'd been trying to suppress threatened to overtake Draco once again. _What if he'd been brought here so that Snape could find a way into his thoughts, to discover just what the Dark Lord had planned?_ Draco bit down on his lip to keep it from trembling. _If Snape knew everything . . . and if he knew that Draco was failing . . ._ He swallowed hard and only just managed to arrange his features into a bored expression before Snape was at his bedside.

"I see you are finally awake." The Potions master was direct and unfriendly.

"Are you going to tell me why I was asleep in the first place?" Draco assumed Snape would refuse to explain, and so was unprepared for the man's dark scowl and harsh words.

"Because you were an idiot, Draco. Your incautiousness and stupidity almost ruined everything."

Draco looked up at the man. "What stupidity? I haven't done anything."

"Except attempt an Unbreakable Vow with Potter!" Snape hissed back. "You may have refused to tell me anything in my office but did you really think you could keep that little detail a secret forever?"

Draco blanched. _Snape_ _**had**_ _read his thoughts. Had he told the Dark Lord that Draco was failing?_ He couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice when he answered.

"That's n-none of your business." He wanted to say more, to remind Snape that he had no right to interfere with Draco's task for Voldemort, but he couldn't make his lips form the words. The fear that had been pooling in his belly for months began growing limbs, branching out through Draco's body. He began to shake, and quickly drew his knees up in the bed, wrapped his arms around them to still the trembling. Snape ignored him.

"It is my business, when you offer to tell Potter everything, to reveal all our secrets! Do you really think he wouldn't have been able to get around the promise not to tell anything to an adult wizard?"

His disdain made Draco angry, and it allowed him to gain a small measure of control. "I'd thought of that!" he spat back. "And if we'd completed the Vow, Potter's promises wouldn't have mattered anyway. Once I'd gotten him into the Room of Requirement, he wouldn't have . . ." Draco broke off, realizing he'd been about to say too much.

But Snape apparently knew exactly what he'd been about to say. "If you believed that would work, you are more thoughtless than I could imagined. Don't you understand that Potter cannot be touched until . . . afterwards? What were you thinking, Draco?"

"It would have worked!" Draco yelled back, more forcefully than he intended. The fear and despair were taking over. The Vow had been his best chance to fix everything at once, to rise to the top of all of the Dark Lord's followers, to restore the Malfoy name to one of trust and confidence. And now it was gone. "Getting Potter into the Room, getting the Felix, it was all connected to . . . to . . . everything," he finished lamely. "It would have all been finished that night. I'm sure of it."

"Your arrogance and refusal to accept help will be your downfall, Draco," Snape finally said. He turned, preparing to leave. "Fulfilling the Dark Lord's plan is more important than individual glory. If you continue to block me, he will know. And you will fail."

With that, the Potions master left the room without a backwards glance.

Draco's bravado vanished. He collapsed back onto the bed and buried his face in the pillows.

Across the room, Ginny heard the beginning of muffled sobs before she slowly began pulling the Extendable Ear back towards her. Her face was a frozen mask, processing the conversation she had overheard. Even though Draco had refused to reveal anything of his plan, one thing was clear: it included doing something terrible to Harry.


	16. Realizations

When Harry finally regained full consciousness, the Hospital Wing was pitch black and silent. He fumbled for his glasses and wand on the bedside table, half expecting Madam Pomfrey to come bustling out of her office as soon as he whispered _Lumos._

What he did not expect was a muffled thump immediately to his left or to suddenly see the sleepy and rather disgruntled figure of Ginny Weasley appear on the floor from underneath his Invisibility Cloak. Harry couldn't help but grin at the cranky look on her face as she contemplated the fact that she had, apparently, fallen out of the chair where she had been sleeping.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered.

Ginny's head whipped up and her grouchy expression evaporated when she saw that Harry was awake. "Finally, you're up!" she whispered back. "It's taken longer than even Dumbledore thought for you to come round." She peered at Harry's face. "How do you feel?"

Harry thought about that for a second. "Okay, I think," he finally replied. "But I don't have any idea why I'm here." He looked at Ginny's face. She looked tired, and even in the weak light from his wand, he could see the dark circles under her eyes.

"How long have I been asleep? And have you been here the entire time?"

"You've been out about two days," Ginny said quietly. Her hands picked restlessly at the Cloak still in her lap and she suddenly became very interested in folding it. "And I've been sneaking back in when Madame Pomfrey's not looking, but . . . I've also been in the library and the Room of Requirement. Looking for things." Her voice took on an odd timbre.

"Like what?"

Ginny didn't answer him, but instead climbed back into the chair next to Harry's bed. Automatically, he reached out and took her hand, turning sideways to face her. She lifted her head enough so Harry could see her face, but her eyes were guarded.

"What is it, Ginny? What did you find?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "Maybe I'd better tell you about the Vow first," she said.

Briefly, Ginny told him about the problems caused by him and Malfoy almost making an Unbreakable Vow. Harry was gratified that she kept her description short and objective; Hermione would have undoubtably added a lecture and Ron would have been sidetracked with ideas about how to get back at Draco. When she got to the reasons Dumbledore suspected the Horcrux had stopped the Vow, Harry frowned.

"So Malfoy is up to something more. Neville was right."

"That's not all, Harry, I overheard Malfoy talking the day they brought both of you in here. To Snape."

Harry turned to look at her. "Yeah? What'd he say? He was pretty mad that day he found Malfoy and me outside the Room of Requirement."

"He was furious now," Ginny agreed. "And Draco tried to hide it, but I could tell he was terrified – he started crying after Snape left."

"The ferret actually cried? I can't believe it," said Harry. He thought for a second. "No. Actually, I can, if he's really a Death Eater like we think he is. We know his mission, or whatever he's doing for Voldemort isn't going well. I'd probably cry too. But . . . wow. He's really in deep."

"Do you feel sorry for him?" Ginny was looking at him seriously. "He sounded absolutely pathetic."

Harry thought about that. "No," he said slowly, "not sorry for _him_ , so much. Maybe sorry for his situation. I mean, it's all about choices, right? He offered me that choice my very first day on the Hogwarts Express. If that's the path he's chosen to go, well, then, I can't feel sorry for him."

"Well, look at how he was raised," said Ginny fairly. "Maybe it's not so much of a choice as following what he's always heard was right."

"Maybe," agreed Harry. "But he chose the easy path, not the right one. I can't respect that." Then he grinned. "And don't worry. I won't breath a _word_ to your brother that you were actually defending Malfoy."

Ginny swatted him. "Prat."

Harry leaned back against the pillows. "So what exactly did Malfoy and Snape talk about?"

All at once, Ginny's face turned grave.

"It sounded like Voldemort has given Malfoy two different tasks," she began slowly. "And the key to both of them was getting you to make the Vow and go into the Room of Requirement."

"Does Snape know what the tasks are?" asked Harry.

"I _think_ so, but it sounded like Malfoy isn't telling him everything," said Ginny. "Snape was really mad about something . . . something to do with you. He said that Malfoy knew that you are not to be touched until . . . until _after_ , whatever that means."

"I guess Malfoy's mission has to happen in a certain order to work," considered Harry.

"Mmmhmm," agreed Ginny. "But he was . . . well, this is where he wouldn't tell Snape everything. He was adamant about it . . . about getting you into the Room and then everything would be okay." She was quiet for a moment. "It sounded bad."

"He was probably bluffing," said Harry. He felt a strong need to protect Ginny from the truth. Even though he thought Ginny was probably right, that Malfoy had been planning something big, he didn't want to let her know it. It had been bad enough to see the pain and sadness on her face when she'd found out he was a Horcrux. Learning that he was a marked man in some Voldemort-inspired plot was too much to ask her to handle.

"I don't want you to worry about it," he said firmly to Ginny. "You look exhausted. Have you slept at all since I've been here?"

Ginny bit her lip. "A little," she said in a small voice. There was something beneath her words and Harry sat up straighter and took both her hands in one of his. With his other, he brushed the hair away from her face and cupped her chin with his palm.

"What's going on?"

Uncharacteristically, Ginny broke out of Harry's grasp and looked away. He saw her take several deep breaths, but still, she didn't speak.

"Ginny?" Harry said, more sharply than he intended. He grabbed her hand again and could feel it shaking. He pulled back just a little. "Sorry. But, you're really scaring me now." Harry was unnerved. He'd never seen Ginny so distressed – the discovery that she'd been possessed by Voldemort's soul was the worst he'd seen and she'd recovered fairly quickly. He'd become used to the idea that Ginny was a rock, _his_ rock, in all this mess. But she was barely holding it together now.

Without waiting to ask, he pushed back the blankets that still covered his legs and pulled Ginny into his lap. She sat there stiffly for a minute and then her resolve seemed to crumble and she melted into him, burying her head in Harry's shoulder. A second later, he felt hot tears on his neck.

Harry didn't try to question her again, just rocked her back and forth and waited. Finally she took a ragged breath and sat up a little, wiping at her eyes. Silently, Harry handed her a tissue.

"I've been in the Room of Requirement," she began in a halting voice. "When I wasn't here. Reading those books on Horcruxes it gave us."

"Was Hermione helping you?"

Ginny shook her head and gave a small, watery smile. "No. Ron thought that he should probably be keeping an eye on Malfoy and Hermione decided she should _help_ him."

"Good for them," said Harry, but he was too distracted to focus on what his two best mates might be getting up to. He squeezed Ginny lightly around her waist. "So what did you find out?"

"How to destroy a Horcrux," she said quietly.

"Ahh." Harry understood immediately what she meant. Ginny looked at him, surprised.

"You have to put the container beyond all magical repair," she said, urgency in her voice. "Like when you stabbed the diary with the Basilisk fang. I didn't harm it at all when I tried to flush it down the toilet, remember?"

"I remember," said Harry heavily. He'd reached an understanding of what it meant to be a Horcrux days ago. He just hadn't considered that Ginny – or anyone else, for that matter – would get there too.

Which was silly, really. If it had been one of the others, he would have been doing everything he could to figure out how to fix things.

 _So Ginny knows._

"I know what it means, Ginny." Harry was gentle, but direct. She looked up at him with scared eyes. "You mean, you already know that you . . .?"

"Yes," Harry interrupted. He didn't want her to have to say it. "I have to die." He sighed. "I actually can't believe I didn't see it sooner, I mean, look at the prophecy – Neither can live while the other survives – what else could it mean?"

"Maybe," began Ginny in a small voice, "maybe there's a way, you know, for _him_ to . . . to . . . well, instead of you."

"I really don't see how, Ginny," said Harry gently. He'd spent those first several nights after he'd realized laying awake in his bed, desperately trying to come up with some alternative to death. There wasn't one, he knew.

"Have you asked Dumbledore? He might know something we don't." Ginny's voice held an air of desperation in it and Harry understood far too well what she was feeling. He too had become used to the idea that the Headmaster could fix everything, that there was nothing Voldemort could do that Dumbledore couldn't make okay. Harry stroked Ginny's arm gently as he replied.

"He would have told me, I suspect. If there was any way around it. So I'm guessing that there isn't." Unconsciously, Harry's hand traveled down to Ginny's waist until it found a patch of bare skin underneath her untucked uniform shirt. She shivered with his touch, but Harry was too far into his musings to really pay attention to what he was doing.

"He didn't even want to tell me I was a Horcrux yet, you know? I guess it didn't matter as long as there were all those other ones still out there that needed to be destroyed first. If there was a way to get it out of me easily, or at all, even, he would have just done it." Harry kept his voice as matter-of-fact as possible. He was determined not to let any of his own panic seep out and upset Ginny. Luckily he'd had a couple of days to try to come to terms with his future; if this had really been the first time he'd learned he had to die – if Ginny had actually been the one to tell him, Harry didn't think he could have stood it.

As it was, comforting her was a welcome distraction. He couldn't help but admire the fact that Ginny had taken it upon herself to try to give Harry the devastating news, and the fact that she couldn't do it without breaking down only increased his love for her.

"Do the others know?" he asked.

Ginny wiped her eyes. "I don't think so," she said. "Hermione will probably figure it out pretty soon – she was the one who first read about destroying Horcruxes, and I'm sure that once she manages to pull her brain away from ways to get my brother to snog her, she'll remember what she learned." Harry could tell that Ginny was attempting to make her voice light and playful as she mentioned Ron and Hermione, and he could only guess the effort it was taking. He pulled her closer and began stroking her back more purposefully.

"We should tell them we already know," he said. "Neville and Luna too."

"And Dumbledore?" asked Ginny uncertainly.

"I'm sure he knows already," replied Harry. "And he was probably going to tell me once he knew I realized I was a Horcrux. But it's not the kind of thing he'd share with all of you in his office too. It would be his way to let me be the one to tell my friends."

In the light from Harry's still-lit wand he could see that Ginny was still crying, but silently, and he could feel the deep breaths she was taking trying to control it. She sat up a little straighter in his lap and nodded to herself, as if deciding something.

"Well then, we'll just have to find a way that no one has thought of before." She spoke so matter-a-factly that Harry almost laughed. _If it was only that easy_ , he thought. _To wish it hard enough that we could make it so._

He didn't want to dash her hopes. "Okay," he whispered. "Let's." It was easier to just sit there in the dark and pretend that everything was going to be just fine. And sitting there, with the warm weight of Ginny in his lap, and no immediate danger in sight, Harry could almost believe it would be. Her cheek was resting against his chin and when Harry turned his head, he was able to kiss her lightly on the forehead.

Another quiet minute passed. Harry stroked Ginny's hair and then let his lips brush against the soft tresses, moving slowly down her face. Neither of them spoke.

He turned Ginny in his lap and brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb. Another soft kiss on her cheek and then he was able to look her fully in the face, taking it between both his hands.

"It's going to be _fine_ ," he said resolutely. It was a lie, he was sure, but at that moment, a lie was exactly what they needed. "Fine," Ginny echoed, reaching up to trace Harry's jaw with her hand. She tilted his chin towards her and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

Harry shivered, and suddenly, _lightly_ wasn't enough. Without really thinking about it, he kissed her back firmly, pushing his tongue against her lips until a second later, she opened her mouth. Harry stopped for the briefest second to think _are we really doing this?_ until Ginny gave a tiny whimper of need and he stopped thinking completely. She needed it – he needed it, and just then, nothing else mattered.

Harry leaned back against the pillows of the bed, pulling Ginny with him until she sat straddling his waist. Some small part of his brain catalogued the fact that they were in the _Hospital Wing_ , for Merlin's sake, and he wondered vaguely what Madame Pomfrey would say if she came out and found them like this, with Ginny's shirt undone (because it was, already), and Harry's hands on her bum as she gently rocked above him.

Ginny must have been thinking the same thing because she looked towards the closed door at the end of the ward that led to the matron's office and suite of rooms. "Do you think she's asleep?" she asked.

Harry had become an expert in the last minutes at stating what he wanted to be true. "Definitely," he said, taking one hand off Ginny's bum to stroke the underside of her breast.

"Does your head hurt?" she asked breathlessly. Her hair had fallen all around her shoulders and for a long moment, Harry could only stare at her – she was so beautiful. _This is what I'm going to lose, when I die._ He couldn't control the thought that jumped, unbidden, into his head. But he could ignore it.

"I feel fine." He thrust his hips up and at the same time, pulled Ginny down to lay flat on top of him. From this position he could go back to kissing her mouth, her jaw, the hollow of her neck. Ginny shivered and pushed insistently down against Harry, her kisses becoming more desperate. He suspected her thoughts had gone where his were – and it was confirmed when he felt another tear splash onto his nose.

 _None of that, now_. The narrow confines of the bed made it difficult, but Harry managed to flip Ginny over so that she was beneath him. "So tell me," he panted, letting his full weight rest on her for a minute before he pushed up on his arms and began teasing her by rubbing himself lightly, up and down. "Did you ever think you'd be making out with your boyfriend in the Hospital Wing?"

Ginny took a shuddering breath. "Well," she finally said. "Given that my boyfriend is Harry Potter, and he spends so much time in the Hospital Wing that they may as well name the bloody place after him – then, yes. Why not?"

Harry grinned, glad Ginny was matching his attempts at levity. "As long as I have you to come visit me, being in the Hospital Wing isn't so bad, actually." Harry kissed her again. "At least I don't have to try to sleep through your brother's snoring."

Ginny giggled. "Fred and George tried to banish his nose once. Instead, they just managed to flatten it so that it spread across half his face. I really thought my mum was going to explode, especially when Fred looked at her with a perfectly straight face and said 'at least he doesn't snore anymore.'"

Harry snorted loudly, then froze as the sound echoed off the high walls. Across the ward, Madame Pomfrey's door squeaked and the doorknob turned.

"Quick, where's your cloak?" Ginny whispered, sliding off his lap. She fumbled around on the floor and then suddenly disappeared. Harry had one last glimpse of her face, still swollen with tears, before she was gone. A second later he saw one of the beds near the door shake a little as Ginny rushed past.

But then Madame Pomfrey was in the ward, bustling towards Harry's bed. "Good, you're awake," she said briskly, picking up his wrist and feeling his forehead. "And alone, I see. Finally." She huffed as if to express her opinion of Harry's nearly constant visitor.

Harry was certain he could hear Ginny breathing, much too loudly, by the door she didn't dare open. He grabbed at the blankets, hoping the matron hadn't caught sight of the last of his arousal and instead pulled something white onto his lap.

 _Shite. Ginny's shirt._ Harry shoved it underneath him and lay back against the pillow.

"What time is it? How long was I out?" he asked, trying to sound confused and yet, speaking rather loudly. He was certain then that he heard a chuckle from the air.

Luckily Madame Pomfrey didn't seem to notice. "About two days," she replied absently, now waving her wand around him in a complicated pattern. After a moment, she nodded to herself. "Well, that's that. I'll just floo the Headmaster and tell him that everything's put to right, okay?" She patted his hand and turned back to her office.

As soon as the door closed a hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed the shirt from under Harry's bum. He grinned and kissed at the air. A smacking sound returned.

"Love you," he called out.

"I love you," Ginny said. Then the door to the Hospital Wing opened and closed and she was gone.

Harry rolled over in his bed, smiling to himself. Despite everything, he felt oddly okay. Tomorrow, they would tell everyone else. He closed his eyes, determined not to think about it until then.


	17. Living Life

Harry left the Hospital Wing himself the next day after promising Madame Pomfrey that he would do everything in his power to stay out of trouble.

"Hell, I really should have asked her if she just wanted me to make an Unbreakable Vow to be careful," Harry joked to his friends. The six of them were sitting together in the Room of Requirement, having made the group decision to ignore curfew.

Ron groaned and Ginny swatted Harry's arm. "Not funny, Harry", said Hermione. Neville nodded in agreement.

"Oh, come on everyone, lighten up," said Harry. He'd had a lot of time to think, lying in the hospital bed.

Next to him, Ginny squeezed his hand. They'd talked it over earlier and she knew what he was going to say, and what he needed from all of them.

Harry looked around at the faces of his closest friends. He was about to make their lives infinitely harder, but there was no way around it.

Looking at Hermione, Harry suddenly hoped that she'd already figured it out and told Ron. He wasn't sure he could stand watching them understand what he was about to say.

"Well, it's just this," he began. Hermione leaned forward, looking particularly grim, and Harry was suddenly sure she knew.

"Yeah?" asked Ron. He still had a mild look on his face. _He didn't know yet._

Harry took a deep breath. "The Horcrux in me," he said. "We know how to get it out."

 _Wrong thing to say._ Everyone suddenly looked excited, hopeful, even. Hermione broke into a grin and Ron and Neville gave each other high fives.

"Dumbledore figured something out, then?" she asked excitedly.

"No! No." Harry said hastily. "No, he didn't," he said more softly. Hermione's face drooped again. As Harry watched she leaned towards Ron, moving her hand so that it was close to where his own rested on his leg. Ron gave her an odd look and for a second Harry thought he was going to grab Hermione's hand, but after a second he shrugged and looked back at Harry.

"So what's the solution, mate?"

"You have to put the container beyond all magical repair," said Harry softly.

Hermione's face didn't change and Harry remembered when she'd first read to them about how to destroy a Horcrux. It just hadn't sunk in to them then.

Neville's mouth opened in surprise and shock. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words were coming out of his mouth. Luna just stared, her eyes opening even wider, if possible.

Ron jumped up out of his seat and stalked towards him. "Bloody hell, Harry. _You're_ the container! How are you supposed to put yourself beyond magical repair? That would be suicide!" He was looking down at Harry as if he wanted to shake some sense into him and make him see the error of his words.

"I'm trying to look at it more as the only way to make sure Voldemort can be killed . . . too." Harry hadn't meant to add that last word, it had slipped out as his voice waivered. Ron's face grew even more red if possible and this time he really did grab Harry about the shoulders.

"Are you mental? You can't . . . you can't just . . . do _that_. Harry." Ron's voice took on a pleading tone Harry had never heard before.

Harry tried to say something, but the words caught in his throat.

"Ron," said Hermione. She'd gotten up from the sofa and was now standing with her hand on his arm.

Ron shook her off. "Hermione, don't you see? He's talking about . . . about . . . letting himself . . . letting that bastard kill him!"

Ron stared at Hermione; he couldn't bring himself to look back at Harry again. For the first time since he'd known her, she looked . . . defeated. She shrugged at him, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

Ron refused to let that be it. He grabbed Hermione by the arm and shook her.

"Hermione, go get some of those books – there has to be a spell in one of them." He couldn't understand why she wasn't moving towards the shelves, pulling down volume after volume and burying herself in research until she came up with the answer.

"You brewed Polyjuice in our Second Year, dammit!" He shook her again.

"Ron, it's not Hermione's fault." Harry was speaking now; he sounded tired.

"Harry." Ron finally made himself look at his best friend. "You're talking like you've given up already!" He looked around the room. "All of you – why are you just sitting there?" He started pacing, unable to stay still. At least if he was walking, he was doing something – and that was more than anyone else could say.

"How long have you known?" He turned suddenly on his sister, who'd been strangely quiet this entire time. Her face was drawn and pale but it didn't have any of the shock that Neville and Luna shared. She didn't look up at him for a second, just continued to trace circles on the back of Harry's hand with her thumb.

"Ginny?"

"A couple days," she finally admitted. When she looked up at Ron her eyes were dry. "I figured it out after reading more of those Horcrux books."

"Which ones?" asked Ron sharply, striding over to the shelves on the other side of the room. He'd barely gotten halfway there when two of them pushed themselves off the shelf to hover in mid-air until he grabbed them. "There has to be an answer in here somewhere," he muttered to himself. Ron threw open one of the books to a random page and began feverishly skimming down the columns of text. The words were cramped and stained; many were unfamiliar and named spells he'd never heard of before.

"Hermione, I need you!" he yelled out without looking up. He turned to another page, then another, looking frantically for anything that might help.

Ron didn't even notice that everyone had come to his side until Harry put his hand on his arm. "Ron, I don't think the books can help."

"Well then, ask the Room to give us some new books, the right books," said Ron. "The right book has to be somewhere." There was a gnawing thought at the back of his head but as long as he was talking, he could ignore it. _If he didn't stop, then he could avoid the truth – they all could._

"I don't think the right book exists," said Hermione softly. Her words, so unexpected from her, finally broke through Ron's mania. He looked up, confused.

"What do you mean? It has to exist," he said to her. He looked at all his friends. Neville had picked up another of the floating books and was paging through it with a sick look on his face. Luna also had a book, but seemed more fascinated than disturbed by its contents. _Magical Man-Eaters_ , the title was.

Ginny was watching him silently, leaning against Harry. It was the look on her face, more than anything else, that finally made Ron believe. He knew Harry and Ginny had only been _together_ , so to speak, for a couple of days, but something had clearly changed for both of them in that time. They had several months together this year that he knew almost nothing about, and whatever had led them to now was bigger than he could have imagined for his little sister or his best mate.

And now Ginny and Harry were having a silent conversation with each other – the kind he'd only seen between his mum and dad, who'd been together _forever_ , for Merlin's sake. How could Harry and Ginny have gotten there so soon?

The silence stretched on as Ron struggled to get his mind around it. He tried once more. "Buy why . . ." he began.

"Because Harry's probably the only human Horcrux ever made," said Hermione, reading his thoughts. "There are few enough books explaining how to make one in the first place, and we know that even Voldemort – when he was Tom Riddle – couldn't find a lot of information about them. I can't imagine anyone ever sitting down and considering this situation."

"Yeah, I guess," Ron finally said. It was still too awful to really think on, and he cast about for something else to say.

"D'you think Dumbledore knows?"

To his surprise, Harry snorted. "No Ron. I don't think he has any idea. He's only the most powerful wizard that ever lived – I'm sure he's going to be quite shocked when we burst into his office to tell him we've figured out I have to die."

The sarcasm was more than Ron's fragile emotions could take. He glared at Harry. "How can you joke about it?" he asked bitterly.

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair in a gesture that was almost as familiar to Ron as his own reflection. It could mean, depending on the situation, that Harry was frustrated, angry, nervous, or didn't know what else to do. Right now, it was probably a little bit of all of those.

"Look Ron . . . everyone," Harry finally said. He stopped. "Maybe we should all go back and sit down first."

Silently, Ron followed everyone back to the sofas, Ginny curling up in Harry's lap this time. Hermione sat down next to Ron on a loveseat and when she put her hand reassuringly on his leg, he didn't think twice about grabbing it in his.

Harry looked briefly at each one of them, his gaze finally settling on Ron. For a moment, Ron was surprised that Harry seemed to be speaking mostly to him and not to Ginny, who deserved as much as anyone to hear Harry's explanation.

 _She already knows what he's going to say, Ron realized._

"Okay," Harry finally said. "I think we can all agree that this . . . situation is pretty horrible, and we don't even need to discuss just how horrible it is. Yes, it now appears that sometime in the nearer future than I would have liked, I'm going to die."

He said the words heavily, but plainly, and the look on his face warned everyone not to disagree. Ron bit back the urge to argue again for some small hope and kept quiet.

"But I've always been a marked man," Harry went on. "Even before I knew about the Prophecy, I knew my life was going to have to . . . that it was just . . . that it was different, from all of yours."

He seemed to lose his words for a moment and Ron watched as Ginny unblushingly whispered into Harry's ear and then trailed several kisses down his face. Harry smiled briefly and looked around again.

"I never let that stop me from living before, though, and I sure as hell am not going to let it stop me now – now that I know just how it's all going to end."

He turned back to Ron. "It's not going to happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the next," he said. "We have all those other bloody Horcruxes to find first, you know?"

Ron let himself nod. He couldn't understand how Harry could be so calm. _If it was me, I'd be bloody mental by now._ That was it, Ron realized. Harry was able to sit here and talk so matter-a-factly about his own death because he was Harry. Harry Potter. And he was right. On some level or another he'd been marked to die from even before he was born.

". . . so I want to keep enjoying myself, as much as I can," Harry was saying.

"How?" asked Neville. "I mean, are you going to start skiving off classes and things?"

"No," said Harry. "Well, maybe Snape's occasionally. But more than that, I just want to live as normally as possible. I want to joke and complain about classes and play Quidditch and badger Malfoy and snog my girlfriend all over the castle." At this last statement, he pulled Ginny's head close to his and began kissing her as if the two of them were entirely alone.

Ron took a deep breath. "You know, if you want to live long enough to find the Horcruxes before you die I suggest you never let me see anything like that ever again."

Harry and Ginny broke apart. "See, it's not so hard," said Ginny. She gave Ron a smile that told him she understood entirely how much effort it was taking him right now to act normal.

"Thanks Ron," said Harry.

"No problem, mate. But I mean it. Don't let me catch you doing that ever again."

Everyone laughed, and then Luna yawned an enormous yawn that made them all realize how late it was. Ron was suddenly exhausted; he felt like he could sleep for a hundred years. But as they gathered up their things and left the Room of Requirement for their dormitories, he knew that it was more likely that tonight, he was going to lay awake for a long time.


	18. Selfish

The first thing Harry noticed when he walked into the Great hall for breakfast the next morning was that Dumbledore wasn't in his usual seat at the center of the head table. He might have harbored the hope that the headmaster was merely delayed – or maybe the man had eaten earlier – if not for his friends, who seemed to have taken it upon themselves to act an extension of Harry's own eyes and ears at Hogwarts.

"I've been here since daybreak, he hasn't been here," Luna told Harry without preamble. He'd waved at her on his way to the Gryffindor table, his mind still half on the headmaster, and she'd jumped up to talk to him.

"Huh? What?" asked Harry, finally turning to look at her.

"Dumbledore hasn't been here. At least, not since daybreak," said Luna. "Although," she continued thoughtfully, "maybe he only eats when it's dark out. You know, so he doesn't deplete his magic. Men with long beards need to be concerned about that, you know." She looked unblinkingly at Harry who wasn't sure how to respond. "It probably explains a lot about Hagrid," Luna continued. "He eats all the time, doesn't he?"

"Uhh, yeah," said Harry. "Umm, you said that you haven't seen Dumbledore?"

"Nope, not all morning," replied Luna. "You wanted to talk to him today, didn't you? That's why I thought you'd want to know that he hasn't been in the Great Hall at least since daybreak."

Harry finally had to smile. Luna may have a roundabout way of thinking, but she got to the point eventually, and usually offered some amusing commentary along the way.

"Thanks, Luna. Let me know if you do see him, okay? Use your coin."

The six of them had spent a few minutes the night before (after the horror of Harry's news had finally sunk in), fixing their fake Galleons so that they could send simple messages to each other. Harry squeezed the one in his pocket reassuringly. It reminded him that he was once again connected to his friends.

"Where do you think Dumbledore is?" Ron asked him as soon as Harry sat down. Uncharacteristically, he was scanning a Daily Prophet and more or less ignoring the plate of sausages and toast in front of him.

"Not sure," replied Harry. "Uhh, is everything okay?" he added warily.

Ron looked up. "Fine, why?" he asked.

"Because you're reading the newspaper instead of stuffing your face, you git," said Ginny, slapping him on the back of his head before giving Harry a kiss on the cheek and sitting down. "I'll bet Harry's afraid that he's turned your head again, or that you are actually Hermione using Polyjuice or something."

Ron shuddered. "Ewww, Ginny. That's just . . . weird." Next to him, Hermione snorted.

"Afraid I'd take the chance to look at your bits, Ronald?" she asked.

"Not until you mentioned it!" Ron groaned.

Harry lay his head on the table. "Hermione's joking about looking at Ron's bits, Ron's reading the news – doesn't something seem off to all of you?"

Ron clamped him on the shoulders. "We're just doing what you asked, mate. Trying to be normal and all." He shrugged. "And I thought it wouldn't hurt to keep up to date on what the enemy is up to."

"Right," said Harry weakly. "Well, carry on, I guess." He looked at the paper. "Anything of interest in there?"

"Not that I can tell," said Ron.

"I wonder how long Dumbledore's going to be gone," Neville mused. He'd joined them at the table and was reading the paper with Ron.

"Do you think he's really gone?" asked Ginny. "Maybe he just didn't feel like eating this morning or something."

"Maybe," said Harry. He stood up. "I'm going to find out."

Harry walked up to the Head Table just as Professor McGonagall was leaving. "Uhh, Professor, do you know where Professor Dumbledore is? I, er, need to ask him a question."

Professor McGonagall peered at Harry through her glasses. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Potter," she said mildly. "Not only from your most recent escapade that landed you in the Hospital Wing, either." She gave one of her rare smiles and Harry suspected that she had at least some idea about what had been going on for the past five months.

 _Well, of course she does. You've been in her class since September – even though you can't remember how you acted._

"Thanks Professor. Is he in his office?"

"I don't think so," said Professor McGonagall. She didn't seem inclined to say anything else.

"Do you know where he is?"

Professor McGonagall gave him a stern look. "It's none of your concern, Potter. The Headmaster has a lot of demands on his time." She started to walk away.

"Actually Professor," Harry spoke as politely as he could, but made his voice firm. "It is my concern. And I need to speak to him."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth and then closed it again. "He didn't say where he was going," she finally admitted. "Or when he'd be back. He just told me to keep an eye on you." She raised her eyebrows. "Are you thinking of starting some sort of trouble?"

"I'm never thinking of starting it. Trouble just seems to naturally find me." Harry sighed. He suspected he knew where the headmaster had gone – or at least – what he was off trying to find, and truth be told, Harry was a little disappointed he hadn't been invited along. The Horcruxes were his problem, after all. The sooner they were all found and destroyed, the sooner . . . well, Harry wanted them all found anyway.

"When he comes back, will you let him know I need to speak to him?" That was the best he could do for now. There would be plenty of time – or at least, some time – to talk to Dumbledore about Harry's future after he returned to the castle.

Ron and Hermione caught up with Harry as he was leaving the Great Hall. He looked around for Ginny, surreptitiously, he thought, until Ron said pointedly that she'd had to run before she was late for Herbology.

"I wish she was our year," Harry mumbled as the three of them left for Potions.

Draco slouched into Slughorn's class feeling nauseous. Even though Madam Pomfrey had assured him that he should not be suffering any lasting effects from whatever it was she had done when Snape had dragged him to the Hospital Wing last week, Draco still felt terrible. When he felt like letting his façade down to be honest with himself (which was rarely and only when he was alone in the Room of Requirement), he knew that his malaise had nothing to do with the stupid Vow attempt with Potter. Well, it did, actually, but only because of its failure. His failure, and what it meant for his task for the Dark Lord.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek, trying to will away his thoughts with the pain. The last thing he wanted to do was start worrying about it _now_ , in the middle of Potions with that pompous fool Slughorn refusing to give Draco any slack. The class was a waste of his time. Snape could give Draco all the instruction he needed at a later date, there was no reason to have to listen to a soft, stuffed old man who didn't even know where his loyalties lay. He sighed, wishing he could just put his head down on his desk and forget about everything for a while.

The door opened and Draco could tell from the voices that Harry was arriving with Ron and Hermione. So far this year Draco had tried to pretty much ignore them in class – it wasn't like he could do anything about his _task_ in here. Harry had pretty much ignored him back – he'd ignored everyone, really, but Draco had been too wrapped up in his own duties to think much about it.

Maybe he should have paid more attention, because something definitely had changed. The three of them were laughing together over something or other – a sound Draco realized he hadn't heard from the trio in ages. Potter had been weird all year – even Slughorn had stopped fawning over him after the first class where Harry had won the Felix – and Granger barely raised her hand. Harry and Ron had been openly hostile to each other and Draco had enjoyed watching them fight – when he bothered to pay them any attention at all, that is.

 _They'd been different outside the Room of Requirement too¸_ he suddenly realized. In the after effects of everything that had happened, Draco had forgotten. But it was true – he'd even mocked them for getting back together. Harry certainly didn't seem terribly concerned about not completing the Vow. For a sick second Draco wondered if Harry had been able to figure out what he was doing some other way. Could he have gotten into the Room?

Draco forced himself to take deep breaths. Even if Harry managed to get in, it wasn't like he would be able to figure out what Draco had been doing in there. It was just a room full of broken magical junk – nothing interesting – unless you knew what you were looking for.

Slughorn bungled into the room and set them all making a potion to restore strength after an illness. Draco sighed and pulled out his scale to start measuring ingredients. Maybe if he finished early he could feign sickness and grab a few extra minutes of work on his _real_ task.

"Well now, that is quite extraordinary, I must say." Slughorn was across the room, peering into Harry's cauldron. "You finished this potion faster than almost anyone I have ever seen – you take after your mother more than you know."

 _Figures, thought Draco. Harry's back to being Sluggy's little pet too. Look at him fawning and fussing over him – the man looks like he's about to start shining Potter's shoes or something._

"I hope you still think I have a thing or two to teach you, Harry," Slughorn was saying.

The man seemed almost ashamed about something. Most of the class was feverishly working on their potions and not paying any attention. Draco wouldn't have thought twice about it except for the fact that it was _Harry_ that Slughorn was talking to, and _Harry_ was of great interest to Malfoy these days.

"It's fine, Professor," Harry responded. He looked slightly repulsed about something.

"Please don't think poorly of me. I had no idea." Slughorn's voice was so plaintive that most of the rest of the class looked up.

"Your mother, Harry. She was one of my favorite students – you know that. I would never intentionally . . . I just couldn't face . . . anyway, I know you can put things to right, can't you? Isn't that was this is all about? After all, Albus said . . ."

The man suddenly realized he had an audience; the entire class had stopped their work and was hanging on his words.

"What did Dumbledore say?" asked Theodore Nott rudely It had gotten really quiet. The only people in the room who didn't look terribly curious about what Slughorn meant (besides Harry), were Ron and Hermione. Ron looked rather angry at the potions master; Hermione looked almost as sick as Draco felt.

"It's true, isn't it?" broke in Terry Boot. "What the papers are saying?"

"It's nothing, nothing at all," muttered Slughorn. He took a deep breath. "Come on now, only ten minutes left to finish. I know you all can do this."

Several of the students didn't look like they cared about finishing their potions. The Ravenclaw students were whispering to one another, occasionally looking over at Harry. Draco thought he heard one of them mutter 'Chosen One', but he couldn't be sure. The sick feeling was worse now.

 _If it was true – if Potter was the Chosen One, what would that mean for Draco's job for the Dark Lord? Was it even possible? Or had Draco been set up – like Potter had suggested – given an undoable task as punishment for his father's failure?_

He couldn't think – he had to get back to the Room of Hidden Things – had to fix this, once and for all.

The whispering had gotten louder. Slughorn made one more half-hearted attempt to get the class to be quiet and then gave up. He moved back towards the front of the room and began rummaging in one of the deep drawers in his desk finally pulling out a bottle.

"What's that?" asked Ernie McMillan.

"Ahh, this is some of Madam Rosmerta's finest oak cured mead," said Slughorn grandly. He seemed to have regained some of his composure. "I received several bottles as a gift from a very highly placed member of the Ministry – such a good friend. I'm planning on giving Professor Dumbledore a bottle or two for Christmas, but I think I need . . ." he broke off.

"Never mind, never mind. Just finish up your potions and bring me a flagon before you leave for the day."

Draco watched Slughorn practically caressing the bottle of mead – he didn't seem to be paying much attention to the class anymore, but every once in a while, he saw the professor cast a worried glance in the direction of Harry.

The Potions teacher's renewed interest in the so-called "Chosen One" was mildly interesting, but Draco had more important things to think about, and as he watched Slughorn and the bottle, an idea came to him. _He said he's planning on giving Dumbledore some of that mead for Christmas, did he? All may not be lost, after all._

"Slughorn shouldn't have been talking about that memory in class like that," said Hermione as they left potions.

"Shhh," cautioned Harry, looking around. It hadn't escaped his notice that Malfoy had been watching them.

But the blonde boy was nowhere to be seen.

"He disappeared awfully fast," said Ron, frowning. "You don't think he's hiding somewhere, do you?"

Harry shook his head. "I think he's run off to work on whatever it is he's doing for Voldemort," he said quietly.

"You don't think he's figured anything out, do you?" asked Hermione. "He still looked pretty nervous to me."

"Me too," said Harry. "No, I think things are still going badly for him."

"Not for you though, mate," said Ron. "That potions book is a lifesaver!"

"What potions book?" asked Hermione.

"The one Harry's been using all year," said Ron. "Although until today, I thought he was mental for trusting it."

Hermione frowned. "I don't remember that. Have you been beating me in potions?" She looked put out all of a sudden.

"Yep," said Ron. "All year."

"Isn't it dangerous to trust something that someone wrote in a book?" she asked.

Harry held it out. "It's just an old book that someone calling himself the Half Blood Prince wrote in. All kinds of alternative directions for making potions and things." He frowned. "I've been using it all year, right?"

"Right," said Ron. "And brewing circles around the rest of us – not that you seemed to care. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah, sort of," said Harry. "All that time seems kind of fuzzy to me though." It was weird, he thought. For the first couple of days after he learned to fight the Horcrux, he'd been constantly aware of it – of having to keep his thoughts and emotions in check. Now, several weeks later, he didn't really notice the effort at all.

"I wonder if it's hiding again," he mused out loud.

"If what's hiding?" asked Ron. They were taking a shortcut to Gryffindor Tower and no one was around.

"The Horcrux," said Harry. "I don't feel like I have to work so hard around all of you anymore."

"Well that's a good thing, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "Maybe whatever made it become active in the first place is finally gone."

"Maybe," said Harry slowly. "But it's just as likely that the thing is just trying to figure out another way to get me."

"Nah," said Ron. "It just probably figured out that we aren't a danger to you, so it gave up."

Harry doubted that was true, but it meant a lot to him to hear Ron try to be encouraging, so he kept his mouth shut. He'd begun to wonder about something else with respect to this Horcrux inside him, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up to the others without creating false hope about his survival. Or, was it really hope – or just selfishness on his part? Harry didn't know, and so he kept his mouth shut as Ron and Hermione continued to discuss what the Horcrux might be doing right now. To hear them talk, one might think they were discussing a particularly disobedient pet or something. Eventually they began bickering and Harry smiled to himself. At least he wouldn't be expected to give his opinion now.

"So are you?" Ron's question broke into Harry's thoughts.

 _Or maybe he would._ "Uh, am I what?" asked Harry.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Are you going to try to figure out where Dumbledore went or are you too busy daydreaming about my sister?"

"I wasn't daydreaming about your sister," began Harry as they climbed through the portrait hole.

"And why not, Potter? I was daydreaming about you."

Harry blustered for a moment when confronted with Ginny, hands on her hips, looking quite stern. But before Harry could stammer out an apology for something – he wasn't sure what he needed to be apologizing for – her face broke into a grin.

"Just kidding," she said. "You just looked very serious when you came through the portrait hole."

"I was listening to Ron and Hermione quarrel – that was my 'ignoring them' face," he said out loud, moving over to kiss her. "And I have a couple of things I want to talk to you about – only you," he said quietly into her hair. He'd just decided then, but it made sense. He knew he needed Ron and Hermione and the others just as much, but Ginny had been with him since the beginning of all this, and he felt more used to telling her things right now. He wanted to tell her his theory alone first.

"Okay," she said quietly back, and Harry knew it had been the right thing to do. Hermione would have begun questioning him right away – Ron too. Neville and Luna would have to wait. He'd talk to them all later, when it was sorted out in his own mind.

"During dinner?" he asked. "We could sneak down to the kitchens and get sandwiches."

"Sounds good," she agreed.

The hardest part was getting away without making the others too suspicious. Harry finally had to hint – more blatantly than he wanted to in front of Ron – that he and Ginny were skipping dinner to go snog.

The sandwiches were easy to get – almost too easy – and Harry finally had to promise to return to the kitchen the following night for more, just so he and Ginny could get away without an entire cake and two pies as well.

The Room of Requirement provided them with a small sofa (so that were forced to sit close together – a touch Harry appreciated), and some soft music playing in the background. Ginny sat down next to Harry and looked at him expectantly – obviously understanding that they were _not_ there just for a snog.

Although, looking at her lips, Harry considered that maybe a snog wouldn't be a bad idea. They were completely alone, the sofa was extremely small and comfortable, and maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to hold off this discussion until a later date.

Except, he really couldn't. He had no idea how much time he had left, really. Dumbledore might be finding the remaining Horcruxes right then; he might come back to Hogwarts in a couple of days and announce to Harry that they were all gone, except for one, and that now it was Harry's turn to do what needed to be done. _Neither can live while the other survives._

"What if I can survive?" he said out loud.

"What?" asked Ginny. "Did you figure something out?"

"Not really," Harry sighed. The real reason he had wanted to hold off having this discussion was that he was kind of ashamed of where his thoughts had gone. _As if his own survival was more important than the entire Wizarding world._.

"So what did you want to talk to me about? We're not here to snog, but you didn't want Ron and the others here, either. What's up? Are you breaking up with me?" She waggled her eyebrows and Harry knew she wasn't really worried. One of the many things about Ginny that Harry loved.

"It's going to sound really bad," Harry said.

"Worse than, I don't know, harboring the soul fragment of an evil dark wizard in your body while it tries to kill your best friend?" Ginny sounded amused.

Harry couldn't help but grin. "Maybe not that bad," he said. "It's just, well, Voldemort hid all his Horcruxes really well, right? So no one could find them and destroy them?"

"Right," said Ginny.

"Because if they get destroyed, he's mortal again, and can be killed," Harry went on, as if reciting a lesson.

"Yes, we know all that," said Ginny.

"Well," said Harry, taking a deep breath, "what if, after we destroy all the other Horcruxes . . . what if we tell him that I'm one too?"

There, he'd said it. He still didn't know how he felt about the idea, but it had been gnawing at Harry for several days and he couldn't ignore it anymore.

"Tell him?" asked Ginny, confused. "Why would you want to . . . oh."

Harry could see the understanding flood her face.

"It's the most selfish thing ever, I know," Harry rushed to say. "Yeah, maybe he wouldn't want to kill me if I was the only thing keeping him immortal, but if I don't die, then Voldemort can't either. It's a stupid idea, forget it." Now that he'd said it out loud, Harry could feel how much it wouldn't work. How could he walk around for the rest of his life, knowing that the only reason Voldemort was still there, terrorizing everyone, was because he – Harry, was a selfish coward? There was no way.

"Well it's about time," Ginny said, breaking into his thoughts.

Harry looked at her, confused. "About time for what?"

"About time you thought about yourself, and only yourself for once."

"But I can't . . . I mean, I know what I said, but I'm not going to really . . ." Harry broke off because Ginny was grinning at him.

"I know," she said. "But you absolutely have the right to be selfish – even if it's just in your thoughts – and to not feel guilty about it." She put her hand softly on his. "Harry, I know what you're going to decide in the end – we all do. We hate it, more than anything, and the unfairness of your life is . . . well, there aren't words."

"It hasn't been totally unfair," began Harry. Ginny shushed him with a finger to his lips.

"See, there you go again," she said. "Just admit that it's totally unfair, and that you deserve so much more – it's okay to do that. It's okay to want something more than what you're ending up with."

"I do," Harry admitted. "I want a lot more. I wish I could have it."

He felt like a weight was lifted off his chest with his words. Not a big weight – most of his pain had been removed when he got Ginny and Ron and Hermione and everyone back. And some of it was never going to leave, he knew. But he felt a little better nonetheless.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. "Cause that's something I want right now that I _can_ have."

"Of course," smiled Ginny.

Harry kissed her lightly, gently, then pulled her head down to his shoulder and stroked her hair.

"I don't want to tell everyone else," he said. "Not because I'm ashamed – I just don't think we need to get into it."

"They've discussed it already anyway," said Ginny. Harry twisted to look at her, surprised. "When?"

Ginny shrugged. "Just . . . off and on, when we've been talking. Neville wondered what would happen if we all just told Voldemort that you were a Horcrux – if it could keep you alive."

"And what did everyone else think?"

"That you deserved a chance to live," said Ginny. "But that you wouldn't do it if it meant keeping Voldemort alive too."

"I wouldn't consider that living anyway," said Harry.

"Exactly," agreed Ginny. "There's no reason to tell everyone what they already know."

"Okay," said Harry. "Good." He relaxed into her.

"Is that all?" asked Ginny.

"Isn't that enough?" he said, twirling her hair through his fingers.

"For now it is," agreed Ginny. She turned against him and shuffled forward so that she sat in his lap. "Those sandwiches will keep, won't they?" she asked, motioning to the plate on the small table next to them.

"As long as we want," said Harry, leaning closer, until all he could see was the warm glow of Ginny's eyes and a few blurry freckles.

They didn't talk for a long while, after that.


	19. The Poison

Dumbledore was not completely wrong; Harry did come to his office before the Headmaster had been back at school a full day. He brought Ginny with him and his demeanor was resolute, not full of the despair Dumbledore had expected.

"I have not been able to find a means of removing the Horcrux from you," he confirmed, looking carefully at Harry to make sure he understood.

Harry nodded. "That leaves me alive, you mean." He was holding Ginny's hand and the Headmaster could see him rubbing his thumb back and forth across it. Ginny's face was unreadable, but then, Dumbledore didn't know her nearly as well as he knew Harry. He was glad Harry had brought her with him. The boy wasn't going to let himself live like he was already dead if he was still relying on his girlfriend.

"Yes. That leaves you alive. The only way I've discovered to destroy a Horcrux is to . . ."

". . .put it beyond all magical repair," Ginny finished for him. Her lips twitched. "Hermione told us already."

"Ahh," said Dumbledore. He leaned back in his chair and touched his fingertips together in a gesture that had become a fallback over the years when he wanted to induce a visitor to speak.

"I know it," said Harry. A hint of defiance shone through his calm façade. He didn't need it said again, and he wasn't expecting Dumbledore to have an answer. It was the fate Dumbledore had been trying to keep from Harry for over five years. He was just sixteen now, and part of Dumbledore still didn't believe Harry was old enough. Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice anymore.

"Did you find another one? A Horcrux?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. I think I know what I'm looking for, but actually finding it has been more difficult than I imagined." The Headmaster watched Harry; the boy couldn't completely hide the look of relief at the news. A second later he frowned.

"That's too bad," he said. "All that work for nothing." He looked right at the Headmaster. "I want to go with you, next time."

Dumbledore hid his surprise. Until that moment, he hadn't been sure about how much Harry wanted to involve himself in the hunt for Horcruxes.

"Are you sure? It will likely be dangerous." To bring home his point, Dumbledore held out his blackened hand.

Harry nodded firmly. "l'm sure."

The Headmaster nodded back. "Okay then."

Harry and Ginny left soon after that. Ginny had barely spoken two sentences in the office, but it was more than obvious how much Harry relied on her now. Dumbledore filed that bit of knowledge away in his mind; he'd have to consider what it meant later.

Harry managed to put all thoughts of Horcruxes out of his mind as Christmas grew closer. He was not staying at school that year; the Weasleys had invited him to the Burrow and he was only too glad to accept their invitation.

He hoped Ron hadn't mentioned to his parents that Ginny and Harry were dating; as far as Harry was concerned, that bit of information could stay at Hogwarts. Indefinitely.

And honestly, both he and Ginny thought the attention giving the whole _dating thing_ had gotten rather out of hand. Now that the rumor that he was the "Chosen One" was fully revived, everyone – well, everyone who was a _female_ seemed to want to get closer to him. Like, really, really close.

Harry was used to being stared at and whispered about when he walked the halls, but never by gangs of giggling girls who stopped to ask him inane questions about classes he wasn't taking or where he'd bought the plain black robe he was wearing. He'd been offered boxes of chocolates, pictures of girls he barely knew and other wrapped gifts, and more than one had asked him to sign a picture of him pulled out of the center of Witch Weekly. Hermione warned him that she'd even overheard several girls in the library trying to figure out the best way to slip him a love potion.

Ginny was having just as hard a time, and Harry was becoming mildly concerned for her safety. It seemed like half the girls in school were jealous and kept trying hex her in the hallways while the other half cornered her with nosy questions about Harry's personal life. Although Ginny didn't have to worry about love potions, two Hufflepuffs _had_ attempted to slip something into her pumpkin juice that was designed to make her reveal every place she and Harry had snogged.

Fortunately, Ginny had too many years of experience as Fred and George's little sister to fall for any tricks. After several students had to go to the Hospital Wing to have bat bogeys removed from their noses, a lot of the more blatant attacks on her stopped.

"I knew you could take care of yourself," Harry commented idly one night in the Common Room. It was fairly empty – a new layer of snow had drawn most of the students outside. Neither Dean nor Ron were around and Harry took advantage of the quiet to pull Ginny onto his lap so he could reach her mouth easily.

Before kissing him back, Ginny snorted. "Like I would let you think anything else," she said.

Harry was about to reply when Ron suddenly came down the stairs from their dormitory with an odd look on his face. He was carrying a box chewing on something. Harry considered pushing Ginny off his lap – just to avoid watching Ron roll his eyes, but Ron didn't even seem to notice them. He looked rapidly around the room, his eyes darting back and forth as if he was searching for something – something that apparently wasn't in the Common Room. His shoulders slumped after a second and he flopped into a chair near Harry and Ginny.

"Hermione's still in the library," said Harry.

Ron looked up, confused. "Huh? Who?"

Ginny reached out and smacked him on the side of the head. "Hermione, Ron, remember? That girl you've secretly wanted to snog for the past two, three . . ."

"Five," said Harry.

". . . years," finished Ginny.

"Why would I want to snog Hermione? I'm not in love with Hermione." Ron looked truly confused.

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ginny. She mouthed _Lavender?_ at him and Harry shrugged.

"Uhh, who _are_ you in love with, Ron?" asked Harry slowly.

Ron leaned back against the chair, a dreamy smile on his face. "Romilda, of course. Isn't she beautiful?"

"Romilda Vane?" asked Ginny incredulously.

"Yeah," sighed Ron. He popped something into his mouth and for the first time Harry realized the thing Ron was holding was a box of chocolates.

"Ron, where did you get those chocolates?" asked Harry.

"I dunno," mumbled Ron, his mouth full of candy. "Under your bed, I think." He swallowed and looked hopefully at them. "So can you help me find Romilda?"

Harry groaned. "Ron! Those chocolates appeared on my bed the other day without a note! I was going to show them to Slughorn when I got the chance – they probably have a love potion in them or something."

Ginny giggled. "Ron took a love potion that made him fall in love with Romilda Vane?"

"Apparently so," said Harry. "Come on, let's get him to Slughorn's office before he makes a total fool of himself."

Only by promising Ron that Romilda was in the Potion master's office were they able to get him out of the Common Room – he kept trying to climb the stairs to the girls' dormitory looking for Romilda.

In the hallways, Ron kept up an inane chatter about how Romilda's hair was dark as ravens – and did Ginny think her eyes were the color of sapphires or the ocean – until Harry was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting out loud.

Halfway to the office their progress was derailed when Ron thought he caught a glimpse of Romilda's hair through one of the windows that overlooked the courtyard. He was practically licking the glass, trying to get a better look even after it was clear to both Harry and Ginny that Ron was actually salivating over a comprehensively wrapped Pansy Parkinson.

"Ron," Ginny said sweetly, pulling on his arm. "I know that Romilda is waiting for you in Professor Slughorn's office." She gave Harry a look.

"Right," said Harry hastily. "I, er, think she's even got a romantic surprise for you there – uh, something to eat or drink. Something you'll really like."

Ron looked up, interested. "Butterbeer?" he asked. "I think it's so cute when Romilda licks her lip after she drinks a butterbeer."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "When was the last time you saw Romilda drink a butterbeer, Ron?" she asked.

Ron didn't answer – he was too busy hurrying down the hall in front of them.

"Romilda?" he called, pushing open the door to Professor Slughorn's office. Harry and Ginny walked in behind Ron – to prevent his escape when he discovered that the object of his desire wasn't there – but the room was dark and Harry realized that the Potions teacher wasn't in the room either.

"Where do you think he is?" whispered Ginny quietly as Ron walked farther into the room, looking under the desk and behind the storage cabinet, as if Romilda Vane was hiding from him.

"I don't know," Harry whispered back, "but try to stall Ron. I'm going to look in the cabinet for something that might help."

Ginny walked over to Ron and suggested that he sit down, "because Romilda was sure to appear any second," while Harry wrenched open Slughorn's storage cabinet and began rifling around in it.

There were bottles and plants and insect parts and a container full of lumpy brown rocks and Harry quickly realized that he had no idea what most of them were used for; he certainly would not be able to brew any sort of antidote to help Ron.

He'd just closed the cabinet and was going to suggest they go look for Slughorn in the staffroom when Ron jumped up and lunged for something sitting on the desk.

"Hey, butterbeer!" he crowed, pulling the top off a large bottle full of a dark liquid that was certainly not butterbeer. "I'll bet Romilda left it for me!"

"Ron, I don't think that from Romilda," Ginny began, just as Harry said, "That's the bottle of mead Slughorn is going to give Dumbledore for Christmas."

Ron ignored them both and took a long pull from the bottle. A second later his skin turned faintly green and he began to sputter and then choke.

"Ron?" Ginny asked sharply. "Don't joke like that."

But Ron wasn't joking. Before Harry could even get over to him, he'd put his hands to his throat and fallen to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. His eyes rolled back into his head and foam began to pour from his mouth.

"Ron!" Ginny cried out, kneeling beside her brother and shaking his shoulders. She looked up at Harry. "Help him!"

Harry stared, horrified, as Ron's choking turned to gasping and his face began to turn blue. He looked down for a millisecond at the wand in his hand and just as quickly disregarded it – he didn't know any spells that could help in this situation. Without really thinking about it he turned back to the cabinet of potions ingredients and began rifling through it.

"Oh god, Harry, he's not breathing!" Ginny sounded close to full panic.

"Hang on, Ron, just hang on," Harry muttered. He pushed aside the bottles of insect wings and grabbed the container of brown rocks he'd seen earlier.

"Ginny, are these bezoars?" he asked, shoving one in her face. Ginny looked blankly at him for a second as if she didn't understand the question, then her face cleared. Instead of answering, she plucked the rock out of his hand and shoved it down Ron's throat. Ron convulsed and shuddered, then took a gasping breath and a bit of color flowed back to his face.

Ginny exhaled. "Yeah, that's a bezoar," she said shakily.

Harry collapsed on the ground next to her and began loosening Ron's robes. Neither he nor Ginny spoke while he worked, watching all the while as Ron's breathing calmed a little more and he stopped shaking. "We need to get him to the Hospital Wing," Harry said finally. He couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice. _What if he hadn't seen the bezoars there? What if he hadn't realized what they were? What if Ginny had been a minute slower?_

"Harry," said Ginny slowly. Her voice sounded very small.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said heavily. Without looking, his hand found hers. "Can you conjure a stretcher?"

Just then the door to Slughorn's office opened and the Potions master walked in. He looked around in bewilderment at the bottles spilled and broken on the floor and Harry and Ginny kneeling over Ron, whose eyes were still closed.

"Oh my," he blustered. "What happened here?" He darted forward and picked up the half empty bottle of mead that was lying on its side. "Is this my mead? I was going to give this bottle to Professor Dumbledore."

"Be careful, Professor," Harry said urgently. "The mead is poisoned and we have to get Ron to Madame Pomfrey as soon as possible. Can you help us conjure a stretcher?"

Slughorn gaped at them, shocked. "Poisoned? My boy, are you sure? How can it be . . .?" he trailed off, looking disturbed.

"We don't know how," said Ginny impatiently. "But my brother needs help _now_."

Slughorn pulled his eyes away from the bottle he was holding and then put it carefully on his desk. "Right," he said, waving his wand.

Only when Ron was safely in the Hospital Wing and Madame Pomfrey had pronounced that he was out of immediate danger did Harry allow himself to relax a bit

He and Ginny explained to Professors Slughorn and Dumbledore what had transpired from the moment Ron came downstairs after eating the tainted candy, and then endured the hugs and praise from the entire Weasley family when they came to see Ron. Harry cringed when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gushed about how lucky they were that Ron had sat with Harry on their first train ride to Hogwarts; he felt like he tended to put Weasleys _into_ danger a lot more often than he got them out of it.

He was trying very hard not to allow the horror at what had almost happened creep into his thoughts when Ron finally opened his eyes and groaned.

Hermione had been sitting by Ron's bedside, barely speaking. Now she grabbed his hand. "Ron?" she asked quietly.

He looked up at her, and Harry could see the confusion on his face. "Hermione?" he asked uncertainly.

Hermione bit back a small smile. "I'm here, Ron," she said.

Ron struggled to sit up, but he was apparently too weak. He fell back against the pillows, looking white.

"Don't exert yourself dear," said Mrs. Weasley, coming over to his other side and straightening the blankets. "You gave us all quite a scare."

Ron tried to sit up again and finally managed to prop himself higher on his pillows. "But where's Romilda?" he asked.

There was a heartbeat of silence and then Ginny exploded with a loud snort of laughter.

"He's still under the love potion!" she giggled.

A second later Harry got it too and started laughing. "That must have been a strong potion, to outlast the poison in the mead," he said, wiping his eyes. Even Hermione, after a moment of shock, was smiling and Fred and George were wearing identical looks of glee that made Harry glad he had not been the one to eat the tainted candy.

"What?" Ron sounded rather annoyed. "Where is she? Doesn't she care at all?"

"Be glad she doesn't , mate," said Harry with a grin. "Trust me."

Professor Slughorn had a hurried conversation with Madam Pomfrey and she disappeared into her office for a moment, returning for a steaming goblet.

"Drink this, Mr. Weasley," she said easily, "and Romilda will be along in just a second."

With that promise, Ron obligingly drank the potion, sputtered a bit, and then suddenly gave a horrified blush at the sight of his family gathered around him. Mrs. Weasley still seemed worried but everyone else was doing their best to bite back chokes of laughter.

"Do you still want us to go find Romilda, Ronniekins?" asked George, who was not even attempting to keep a straight face. "Ouch!" he said, rubbing his side where Hermione elbowed him.

"Please, don't ever let me near a box of chocolates again," muttered Ron. "What was I thinking?"

"No one answer that," said Hermione sharply as both Fred and George opened their mouths. "At least it wasn't Lavender this time."

George still looked like he wanted to say something but Madame Pomfrey interrupted.

"Enough!" she said. "We still need to transfer Ron to St. Mungos. I can't counteract all the effects of the potion here."

"We're coming along with you," said Mrs. Weasley. She took her husband's hand.

"Me too," said Hermione quickly. A hint of a blush rode up her cheeks but she kept her head high.

"Well we have to get back to the store, now that we know there isn't going to be a surprise wedding or anything," said Fred, cuffing Ron on the side of the head. "I'm glad you're okay though."

"Thanks," Ron mumbled. He closed his eyes and Harry realized how weak he still looked.

"And Harry, you can save my life anytime you want," continued Fred conversationally.

"Let's hope I don't have to," Harry managed as the rest of the Weasley family began to file out of the Hospital Wing or towards the Portkey connection to St. Mungos. He looked at Ginny. "Are you going too?"

Ginny gave him a long look. "I think you need me more than Ron does," she said softly.

Harry wondered how she knew that. "I do," he said simply. He knew he would have nightmares for the rest of his life about Ron's face, blue and not breathing, laying on Slughorn's carpet.

"Then I'll stay with you," she said.

The weather around the castle turned frigid after the students returned from the Christmas holidays. Although it had been relaxing and pleasant to be at the Burrow, the holiday atmosphere had been somewhat diminished by Ron's close call. The poison had weakened him enough that he spent most of the break lying on the sitting room couch and beating Harry at chess instead of engaging in the snowball fights and general mayhem Harry had envisioned for Christmas at the Burrow.

Even Ron's joking comment that Harry's finding the bezoar in time had more than made up for his attempting to kill Ron earlier in the year didn't completely pull Harry out of his melancholy. Finally, on their first day back at the castle, Ginny cornered him near the fireplace in the common room.

"Okay Harry," she said, quietly enough that they couldn't be overheard. "You've enough time to think about whatever it is that's bothering you. Time to talk." Her face softened just a bit. "Is this still about Ron?"

"No," said Harry automatically. "Well, yes. Maybe." He shrugged helplessly, not sure what to say, but inside he was rather relieved that Ginny had decided not to let him mope anymore.

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. "That's helpful."

Harry gave a wry smile. "Yeah." He thought for a second. "It's just . . . all these terrible things keep . . . almost happening. I know Draco's involved, but we don't know how. And we aren't closer to finding the other Horcruxes or figuring out when I'm going to have to . . ." His voice trailed off. He'd hadn't meant to bring it back to that.

Ginny grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto a loveseat. "You've barely mentioned that for a month," she said. Harry waited, but Ginny didn't say anything else. He sighed.

"Yeah, well, it's not something I like to dwell on," he said.

"But you are dwelling on it, Harry," said Ginny. "Right?" You just aren't sharing it with us . . . me."

"I don't want to be depressing all the time," said Harry heavily.

Ginny gave a light snort. "Well, you're failing. And anyway, that's what I'm here for, remember?"

Harry nodded. He didn't realize how much he'd been keeping inside these past weeks. "I thought I was past all that," he said out loud. "Or that I was so obvious," he added. He leaned over and looked Ginny in the face. "Forgive me?" He kissed her lightly on the lips.

"Of course I forgive you, Harry." Ginny put both hands on the sides of his face. "And I'll forgive you again the next time you clam up and keep everything inside." She leaned forward and kissed him back, as lightly as he had at first, and then Harry felt her tongue ghost across his lips, prizing them open.

He groaned and opened his mouth. _It had been too long_. Hardly caring that he and Ginny were in the common room in full view of pretty much all of the Gryffindors, Harry pushed Ginny back against the sofa cushions and ran one hand down her side.

 _It was lovely._

After that, Harry found that it wasn't too hard to make a conscious effort to separate his moods. There were times he could almost forget about the death sentence hanging over his head or his concerns about what Malfoy was up to or when Dumbledore planned to look for another Horcrux. During those times he joked with his friends and practiced Quidditch and snogged Ginny in every private corner of the castle they could find.

When the worry crept in – as it did on a regular basis, he didn't fake happiness for the sake of protecting anyone anymore. To his surprise, it made the bad moods easier to bear. And he could still snog Ginny in every private corner of the castle they could find.

January had blurred into February and the castle was beginning to buzz with talk of a Hogsmeade weekend for Valentines Day when a tiny first year interrupted Harry and Ginny as they whispered together in the Great Hall.

"What?" asked Harry with more irritability than he'd intended. They had been discussing how to sneak down to the Quidditch changing rooms before practice tomorrow and Harry was already feeling the familiar tingle he got in his stomach whenever he thought about spending a significant amount of time hiding somewhere private and kissing Ginny.

"Uhh, Professor Dumbledore wanted me to give you this," the student stammered dropping a roll of parchment on the table and running off.

Harry's stomach stopped tingling and suddenly felt like it was full of lead. As he picked up the parchment, he was surprised to see his hand was shaking a little bit.

"Do you think he found a Horcrux?" Ginny asked.

Harry unwrapped the note asking him to come to Dumbledore's office at 6 pm the next evening. "And wear warm clothes," the note finished.

Harry crumpled it in his hand. "Yes," he said to Ginny. "We're going to get it tomorrow."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Should we tell the others?"

"Not now," he said, making the decision on the spot. "Tell them tomorrow night, after I've gone."

Ginny nodded. "Okay."

Harry took a deep breath. He wasn't sure how he felt right now and only one thing seemed real. He turned and looked at Ginny,forcing a smile back on his face.

"I guess maybe we should check out the Quidditch changing rooms now instead," he said. He touched her cheek and leaned in to give her a kiss, letting his body rub up against hers.

Ginny peered at him and Harry knew she was trying to figure out if he was trying to hide his feelings.

"Really," he said. "Yeah, I'm a little freaked out," he admitted, "but I don't want to dwell on it right now, okay?"

Ginny smiled and took a step closer to Harry. She wrapped her arms around his back and put her lips up to his ear. "The Quidditch changing rooms are awfully far away," she whispered. "How about we check out that broom closet down by the kitchens instead?"

Harry shivered. "Let's."


	20. The Cave

Harry avoided everyone except Ginny the following day; he was worried he'd let something slip about his upcoming trip with Dumbledore and he didn't want to talk about it until they were back, triumphant. It felt too odd – he was eager to find all the Horcruxes and yet, the end of Voldemort's life could not come without the end of his own. He didn't feel like dealing with the mixture of sympathy and strategizing his friends seemed to bring and so he spent the day taking a long, cold walk around the lake and then sitting in a corner of the library with Ginny, pretending to study.

As he got up to leave a little before six, Ginny gave him a kiss and then asked if she could use the Map and Invisibility Cloak while he was gone.

"For what?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged. "To check up on Malfoy, what else?"

Harry said "no" automatically, not even thinking about it. There was no way Ginny was going to roam around the castle after hours – all alone.

"Why not?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed as if she expected not to like his answer.

"Ginny, it's too dangerous." Harry couldn't keep the curtness out of his voice. "Dumbledore hasn't figured out who poisoned Slughorn's bottle of mead yet, but I know he suspects Malfoy."

Ginny stuck out her chin and began to respond but Harry held up his hand. "I mean it, Ginny. I don't want you wandering around the castle at night without me."

Ginny opened her mouth to respond and then closed it. "Fine," she said shortly. Two spots of color had risen in her cheeks. "You better go before you're late. I'll be safe in my room all night if you need me."

Harry hated the look on her face – a mixture of anger and hurt – but he couldn't stand the thought that Ginny might be in danger while he was gone. "Ginny," he began.

She was looking resolutely down at her Herbology text. "I'll talk to you later, Harry. Good luck," she said without raising her head.

Harry sighed. "Right," he responded. He walked out of the library with a sense of foreboding, but as he walked to Professor Dumbledore's office he forced himself not to think about the disagreement with Ginny. He would need all his concentration focused on the task at hand.

He reached Dumbledore's office promptly at 6. It had started to snow and the wind was whipping around the castle so hard the windows shook.

"Where are we going, sir?" he asked, watching as Dumbledore stood in front of one of his silver instruments and frowned. Behind him, the windows shook and Harry shivered. Somehow he doubted their destination was going to be anyplace warm and comfortable.

"To a cave at the seashore near Devon," replied the Headmaster absently, still frowning. "If I'm not mistaken, it's the location of one of the young Tom Riddle's more nefarious holidays."

"Holidays?" asked Harry. "Who would have taken him on a holiday?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose you don't remember that day too well – when I showed you the memory of my first meeting with Tom and the matron at his orphanage. She told me a story about Tom terrorizing several of the other children when they were all on a seaside holiday – something happened in a cave, but no one involved ever said exactly what it was.

"And you've found the cave?" Harry asked. A thrill of dread ran through him. The seashore was not likely to be pleasant this time of year.

"I believe I have," said Dumbledore. "The matron who was in charge of the orphanage when Tom was there died almost ten years ago but I found another worker from that time period who remembers quite a few summer days at the beach on Lundy Island. There's a cave there that I believe is the one we are looking for."

"Why do you think Voldemort would have hidden one of the Horcruxes in that cave?" asked Harry. "Certainly it wasn't the only place in England where he acted like a bully."

"True," said Dumbledore. "But I think the cave is significant to that point in Voldemort's life for several reasons. I doubt he would have hidden anything at the orphanage – not only did he despise the place but retrieving an object from there later would be difficult. The cave is another matter entirely. The incident happened when Tom was ten – at the height of his pre-Hogwarts power. I suspect he was quite pleased with his accomplishment on that holiday – his depravity sunk to a new low, so to speak, even without knowing what his power meant." Dumbledore tapped the silver instrument he had been watching and it went immediately silent. He held out his arm to Harry. "Shall we go?"

Harry closed his eyes while they Apparated. Although all the Sixth Years had begun their Apparition lessons Harry had only been successful moving himself out of his starting circle once and he still hated the sensation of being squeezed through a tube.

He knew when they arrived even before he opened his eyes; although they were far south of Hogwarts' location in Scotland it was still quite cold and the spray of seawater that hit his face felt like tiny stinging hexes. When he looked around he could see they were standing on a small island; the mainland was about 200 metres across the tossing surf where Harry could see a number of boarded up buildings and faded signs advertising fish and chips and a souvenir shop. Across the sand from where they were standing was the mouth to a largish cave with a wooden pathway leading up to it.

"This is it?" he asked Dumbledore. Harry couldn't put his finger exactly on it, but something didn't feel quite right.

Dumbledore peered at him; the wind whipped the Headmaster's long hair and beard around in a frenzy but his eyes were still, searching Harry's. "I believe so," he said. His eyes grew even more serious. "Do you?"

Harry wasn't sure what to say. To admit his misgivings – based on nothing more than a feeling in his gut – would show mistrust. Professor Dumbledore had spent months looking for this location, he'd collected dozens of memories in his quest to find the Horcruxes, he was the most powerful wizard of all time. Harry felt like an idiot even considering to disagree. But still . . . he remained silent, not sure what to say.

"I don't think this location was quite as popular with tourists sixty years ago," Dumbledore said, guessing some of Harry's thoughts. "This beach was only created about twenty years ago and before that, the cave was more difficult to access. Tom and his victims would have had to climb through a number of tide pools and over rocks to get here."

Harry nodded. "Okay," he said finally. He wasn't completely mollified, but without being able to specify his concerns, he decided to just keep his mouth shut.

He followed the Headmaster up the sandy beach towards the mouth of the cave. The wooden walkway made the going easier but the closer they got to the entrance, the more something bothered Harry about the entire situation. He frowned, trying to figure out what it was when the wind disappeared.

They had entered the mouth of the cave. It was fairly large and showed signs of having been explored by years of curious families. Dumbledore began to wave his wand at various rock outcroppings when suddenly Harry realized what was bothering him.

"I don't feel anything," he said out loud. Dumbledore looked up at him. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," said Harry, knowing he was right, "that there's no Horcrux here. I don't feel anything – not scared or angry or blank or any of those other things I felt in your office from just viewing old memories. If there was real Horcrux here, don't you think I'd know it?"

Dumbledore sighed. "You're right, of course. I can't find a single magical signature here. I guess the orphans must have had holidays at more than one beach." He looked severely at Harry. "You didn't think we were in the right place from the start, did you?"

Harry flushed. "No, sir," he mumbled. He was surprised when Dumbledore took him by the shoulders – the man almost never touched him – and looked him in the eye.

"Harry, this is very important," the Headmaster said solemnly. "You must always, always tell me what you are thinking and feeling while we are searching for Horcruxes. There may come a time when your intuition is the only thing you have to rely on."

Harry snorted. "I don't think I'll ever be able to trust myself as much as I trust you, sir."

Dumbledore smiled – a little sadly, Harry thought. "I hope you can trust your friends at least as much as you trust me, Harry," he said. "Let them help you whenever you can – you are going to need them more than ever as your search continues. Don't shut them out."

Abruptly, Harry was reminded of his earlier fight with Ginny. He wouldn't put it past the Headmaster to know all about it. "But sir, how can I ask my friends to put themselves in danger . . . for me?"

"Harry, do you really think any of your friends would sit back and let Voldemort and his Death Eaters take over if they didn't know you?" The Headmaster peered at Harry over the top of his spectacles. "The Weasleys have been known as blood traitors since the First War; Neville's parents were tortured only months after yours were killed. Your friends are your friends because of who _they_ are, not who _you_ are. And you do them a disservice if spend your efforts trying to protect them by forcing them to the sidelines."

Now Harry was certain the Headmaster knew about Ginny. He supposed he hadn't closed his mind to the fight as much as he thought. It made him appreciate Dumbledore's power all the more; Harry hadn't felt even the barest hint of Legilimency from the man. He squirmed a little under Dumbledore's gaze and finally nodded.

"I understand sir. And . . . I'll do better." He looked around at the cave. "Now what? Do you still think the Horcrux is hidden in a cave?"

"I do," replied Dumbledore. "Although, like most everything else having to do with the hunt, it is just an educated guess. And as you can plainly see from today's failure, my hunches are not infallible."

"I'm sure they're still better than most," said Harry. He shivered. They had walked back out of the cave and the wind was hitting them again with all its force. By the feel of it, some of the spray had become ice. It was possibly even sleet, but the sky above was too dark for Harry to know for certain. Dumbledore held out his arm.

"I think we have dallied long enough, Harry," he said. "I'm sure you would like to get back to Hogwarts and your warm common room, although things still may be a little chilly there as well."

Harry grimaced. "Yes sir," he said. "I think I have some apologizing to do."

It was an hour before curfew but Ginny was already lying on her bed listening to the wind howling in the darkness. Part of her was thinking about Harry, somewhere out in the cold with Dumbledore. She hoped he was safe and that they had been successful in finding a Horcrux. The rest of her still seethed over his earlier overprotective behavior. While she could understand Harry's worry – better than most, probably – it still irked her. He didn't treat Ron and Hermione that way, she thought petulantly to herself, and she was every bit as capable as they were.

She sighed and rolled over on her bed, thinking. She didn't want to fight with Harry but she didn't want him treating her like she was breakable either. Things had been going well between them – despite the death sentence hanging over Harry they had somehow managed to carve out some modicum of normalcy and Ginny didn't want to waste any of their time together on petty arguments. Even though this one wasn't exactly petty. Like it or not, they were going to have to have a talk.

"Uhh, Ginny?" Her roommate Demelza was standing in the doorway looking nervous.

Ginny sat up quickly. "Yeah? Is something wrong?" Her stomach plummeted. _They wouldn't have sent Demelza if something really bad happened._

"Harry asked me to come find you," the other girl said. "He wants to know if you'll go up to his room." At this, Demelza couldn't quite hold back her smirk.

"He did? Where was he?" Ginny asked. She was already pulling on her dressing gown and looking for her slippers.

"In the common room," said Demelza. "He looked upset about something.

"Really?" said Ginny with as much nonchalance as she could muster. She didn't want Demelza to get suspicious. "I guess I'd better go see what's wrong."

Ron and Hermione were both in the common room waiting for her when Ginny came down from the girls' dorm. It looked like they had been whispering to each other by the fireplace. Ginny intended to just nod to them and walk by – she hoped they'd understand – but Ron reached out and grabbed her arm before she could slip past them to the staircase.

"Ginny, what's with Harry? He came in here looking half frozen and completely depressed. We tried to find out what was going on but he just asked Demelza to find you and said he'd talk to us later."

"Well then, Ron. If Harry wanted to find me, maybe you should let me go see what he wants." Concern made Ginny speak sharper than usual to her brother as she shook off his grasp.

"You know something, don't you?" asked Hermione shrewdly. She suddenly looked excited. "Did he find one? Another Horcrux?"

"Shhh, Hermione, keep your voice down!" hissed Ginny. "I don't know what Harry found because the two of you are keeping me from going to see him."

"Fine," huffed Ron. "Go. But remember, we're on his side too you know."

Ginny's anger evaporated. "I know you are," she said. "And so does Harry. It's just . . . whatever happened tonight, I don't think he's ready to share it with everyone. He will be though. Soon." She gave her brother a quick hug. "I know you're just worried. We all are."

Ron nodded. "Just let us know if we can do anything, okay?"

Ginny walked slowly up the stairs, her thoughts swirling. She wasn't sure what she was going to find in Harry's dorm. As prepared as he tried to act for the destruction of the Horcruxes, she suspected that actually taking a step closer to his own death was more difficult than he imagined.

She didn't bother knocking on the half-opened door but she did shut it behind her and seal it with _Colloportus_. Harry was sitting quietly on his bed, looking down at his hands. He didn't look up when she walked in.

"Thanks for coming," he said quietly. "Even though I know you're mad at me."

He sounded so defeated that Ginny was immediately on alert. Something hadn't gone as planned. Maybe it hadn't been one Horcrux they'd found – maybe it had been two or even three and they were much closer to the end than any of them had suspected. She sat down next to him on the bed and took his hand, half expecting him to pull away. He didn't, but squeezed her hand tightly, as if he was holding onto a lifeline.

"I'm not mad at you," she said, and it was true. Looking at Harry's face, Ginny could suddenly feel some of the danger he was trying to keep away from her. She didn't blame him for not wanting her to go search for Draco by herself. Harry was right; it wasn't safe.

"I'm not mad," she said again. "I'm . . . worried. What happened tonight?"

Harry sighed. "We didn't find one."

Ginny hadn't been expecting this. "You . . . what? You didn't? Why? Where?"

"Dumbledore thinks Voldemort hid one of his Horcruxes in a cave at the sea – a cave he visited with the orphanage when he was about ten. He tortured some of the other children there.

Ginny shuddered. "And you went to a cave tonight?"

Harry nodded. "Near Devon. But it wasn't the right one. I knew it immediately." He dropped Ginny's hand and began rubbing his temples.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, concerned. "And how did you know it wasn't the right one?"

"Because I didn't feel anything when we got there. The . . . Horcrux inside me didn't react at all. Usually, I start to feel sick just talking about it . . . like now." He closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillow on his bed.

Ginny moved so that she was lying next to him. She didn't know what to say. Truth was, she was actually a little relieved. They hadn't found a Horcrux; Harry wasn't any closer to death, and they weren't disagreeing anymore. She wasn't certain Harry felt the same way, though.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Harry was quiet for a long minute. "I'm not," he finally said. He turned to look at her. "I didn't realize it until we got there, but I'm not ready. To die, I mean." Ginny shuddered and Harry took her hand. "I will be, I think. I mean, I have to be. But I think I've assuming that when the time came, I'd know it, and be okay. I'm not there yet."

"What if you still aren't ready when . . ." she couldn't finish the sentence.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I guess I'll just have to go through with it not being ready." He looked at her. "That's probably what will happen. I'm starting to think there's no way I can get ready to die. No matter how much I've faced death already."

Ginny's heart broke a little more then. She wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. For lack of the right words she just cuddled a little closer to him and let her hand trace up and down Harry's side. He shuddered.

"Let's not think about it right now," she finally said.

Harry nodded, his eyes closed, and Ginny began trying to do everything she could to make him forget, even just for a little while.


	21. Interlude: Draco and Voldemort

The message almost made Draco pass out. As it was, he stared at his arm for several long seconds – too long – the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach growing along with the pain of the Mark. He looked wildly around the room, crowded as always with the flotsam and jetsam of decades of magical mess and student carelessness, begging it to show him an escape. But he knew that the magic of this place was no match for his Master's demand and the binding magical contract he had made when he allowed the Dark Mark to be branded onto his arm.

When he couldn't stand it any longer, when he thought his body was about to burst into flames, he finally reached out a trembling finger to the writhing black shape and touched.

The Room of Requirement receded from his vision and he was standing in what looked like a library. Draco didn't think he had actually traveled anywhere; he could still see the cabinet and furniture, fuzzy in the corners of his sight. After a minute he realized it was his father's library, in Malfoy Manor, that had jumped into sharp focus. The roaring fire couldn't chase away the neglect in the room; his father hadn't been there for months and his mum was staying elsewhere.

His Master was sitting in a chair in front of the fire.

Although he had expected this, known as soon as his scar burned that his time was up, seeing Him here, only feet away, was too much. He swayed and would have fallen but for a soft word from Voldemort, and suddenly, Draco was unable to fall, unable to look away from the snakelike face, the red eyes.

Voldemort appraised him for a long minute while Draco felt his heart almost beating out of his chest. He tried to speak, and found his voice had been bound; even his frantic breath was silent.

"I am not going to kill you today, Draco." The obvious meaning of his Master's words gave Draco no comfort. He tried again to speak and found that now, the words came.

"I'm close Master. I swear. It will be done . . . both will be done, soon." He didn't even try to hide the begging plead in his voice, and he sounded even younger than his 16 years.

"I don't know why you try to lie to Lord Voldemort, Draco," his Master said silkily. "I know you are no closer now than when you started. I know you almost gave away too much with that stupid plan to make an Unbreakable Vow. I know of all your failures." Voldemort's voice was calm; Draco almost wished he would yell.

"But all is not lost. The near debacle of the Vow helped me see that my path forward is sure. You are just going to have to work harder to complete your part of the journey. I trust that you have learned the spell I showed you?"

Draco nodded jerkily; wondering if the spell freezing him limbs would also keep him from vomiting.

"Good, good. That is something, at least. And here, I have finally decided what you will use." A flick of his wand, and an ebony object with a silver skull handle appeared in the air between them. _His father's walking stick._ Another flick of the wand and the wood fell away, leaving only the top. Draco's hand jerked out of its own accord and the skull fell neatly into it.

"Use this," ordered Voldemort. "And bring it to me as soon as you are done."

"But Master, how should I . . ." Draco was beyond all reasonable fear now and it made him lose sight of the caution he needed. Pain shot through his head and he heard Voldemort's next words in his head as the room blurred in front of him.

"That is not my concern. I am not going to wait much longer before I find someone else, Draco. And you . . . well, we know what happens to those who displease me."

The voice faded away and Draco was back in the Room of Requirement. His head was spinning and he hoped against hope it had all been a dream, except for the fact that he was clutching a heavy silver skull in one hand.


	22. Horcruxes, Plural

A/N: As I upload the rest of this story (which, for those of you who don't know, has been written in fits and starts over the course of over 11 years), I realize that I've ended most of the last few chapters with a hint of Harry and Ginny sexiness, but haven't actually written any of the scenes. After this is all posted and I have some time, I hope to write an outtake or two from some of those moments.

Harry spent a week feeling guilty about being relieved at their failure to find a Horcrux. And then came reports of a Death Eater attack on a Muggle school; nine children had been killed. That night, the six met, at Harry's invitation, in the Room of Requirement.

"We have to find the Horcruxes, soon," he said urgently. "People who've never even heard the word wizard are getting killed. I can't be selfish anymore."

"Yes you can, Harry," said Ginny patiently. They had had this conversation many times before. "Not wanting to find the Horcruxes doesn't mean that you won't do you best to try."

"I told Professor Dumbledore we would come see him tomorrow night," Harry said. "He still has a couple of memories to show us – the ones we never saw the night we told him about the Unbreakable Vow. And we all should see the ones he showed me when I was still really affected by the Horcrux; there may be something I've missed and none of you have seen them at all."

"Do you think that's a good idea, to watch them all at once, mate?" asked Ron. "You told us that last time, even seeing one or two made you sick."

"Now that I really know what to expect, and with all of you with me, I think I will be okay," he said truthfully. "I'm much better in control of it now."

"You mean, because you'll be snogging my sister the entire time, right?"

"Not the entire time, Ron," retorted Ginny. Professor Dumbledore might be there."

"Have you heard any more from Malfoy?" asked Neville suddenly. "Since the whole mess with the Vow, I mean. Because yesterday in Herbology he looked like he was about to faint or something. When I asked him if he was all right, he was almost polite to me."

Harry frowned. "Now that you mention it, he has barely said a word to me, even when he's with his cronies and I'm alone. Usually that's prime insult time."

"Something is going on there, I know it," said Neville worriedly.

"I'm going to try harder to get into the Room of Requirement next time he's there," said Harry.

Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna left soon afterwards. Ginny had gotten up to leave too, but a single look from Harry stopped her. As soon as the door closed, he turned to her.

"D'you have a lot of homework?" It was Ginny's OWL year and Harry was trying to be as considerate of her study needs as he could.

"No, actually. If you didn't notice, you spent the entire last week feeling guilty about the cave, and I was able to get ahead on my work." She rolled her eyes at him and Harry flushed.

"You noticed that? I thought I was doing a good job of faking it."

Ginny rolled her eyes again. "Faking it from me? Fat chance, Potter."

Harry laughed, feeling light just to be here with her, despite the bad news that seemed to want to come from every direction. "You know, I can think of another thing I won't be able to fake," he said with a smirk. "And if we try really hard, I bet you won't be able to fake it either."

Ginny smiled. "I'd love to see you try."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next night, the meeting at Professor Dumbledore's was the most relaxed Harry had had yet. It was almost as if Harry had needed to think they were about to find a Horcrux to get him used to the idea; the fact that they had failed seemed less consequential now; he knew it was only a matter of time. Dumbledore was brilliant that way.

In fact, it was Hermione's brilliance that did it.

Dumbledore had taken them back into some of the scenes he had shown Harry in the fall. Harry held lightly to Ginny's hand and kissed her every so often and didn't feel anything more uncomfortable than an occasional throb of his head. And even those seemed to be fading.

They were all actually joking in the Gaunt shack – about how even Molly Weasley would have had her work cut out for her in that amount of filth – when Hermione gasped. "The locket!" she said in a half cry, half scream. Inside the Pensieve, Dumbledore looked sharply at her and pulled them all back to his office.

"What about the locket, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was pale and trembling, unable to speak for a minute. Ron put his arm around her and said something quietly in her ear and she nodded and relaxed. She looked at them.

"I've see it, the locket," she said. " _We've_ seen it, actually. At Grimmauld Place."

And Harry remembered. "When we were cleaning the sitting room!" he said. "No one could open it."

"We passed it around," added Ron. His arm was still around Hermione. "We all held it."

"Stay here," Dumbledore's voice was terse. "No matter what, do not leave." In a flash of light, he disappeared.

"What . . what's Grimmauld Place? Why was Voldemort's mom's locket there? Do you think it's a Horcrux?" Neville was full of questions.

Quickly, the others filled in Neville and Luna about the summer they had spent in Sirius' family home and all the cleaning they had had to do to make the place habitable.

"But we threw that locket away, didn't we? How is Dumbledore going to find it?" said Ginny practically. "It could be anywhere."

"I bet . . . " Harry began, when suddenly another flash of light brought Dumbledore back to the office. In one hand, he held the locket and in the other, a filthy house elf.

". . . Kreacher took it," he finished dryly.

"YES!" shouted Ron. "You got it!" He looked over at Harry, a horrified look on his face. "Sorry Harry. I didn't mean . . ."

Harry waved him away. "I know, I know. Don't worry about it." He looked at the Headmaster. "So Kreacher stole it back?"

Dumbledore nodded solemly. "He did. And told me an interesting story about how he got it. It seems that, Harry, even if we had found the correct cave, we would not have found the correct locket." Briefly, Dumbledore explained how Regulus Black, Sirius' brother, had stolen the real locket back from his hiding place, dying in the attempt and leaving Kreacher to live alone for over a decade in the Black home.

Harry had never liked the elf, and would never forget the hand he had had in Sirus's death. But he understood better now the circumstances that had made Kreacher what he was. "Uhh, thank you, Kreacher. For getting the locket. And we promise to use our power to destroy it, just as Regulus wanted."

The elf's eyes filled with unshed tears, but apparently the thought of crying in front of those he had spent the summer insulting was too much. He gave a little bobbing bow instead and disappeared with a crack.

Dumbledore looked them over, landing finally on Hermione. "Your powers of observation are extraordinary," he said with a smile. "If you hadn't remembered seeing the locket before, there is no telling where it might have ended up."

Hermione smiled modestly, but Harry could tell she was thrilled to have Professor Dumbledore give her that sort of praise. He took a deep breath, knowing that he needed to be the one to say it.

"And now we are going to destroy it, right, sir? Because I think we should. Right away. "

Dumbledore looked over his spectacles at Harry, and Harry knew he hadn't fooled him, or anyone else for that matter, with his apparent eagerness to bring himself one step closer to death. The professor didn't say anything, however, but instead walked over to the cabinet behind his desk and removed the Sword of Gryffindor that had presented itself to Harry in the Chamber his second year.

"Is that . . ?" Ginny's eyes were wide.

"It is, Miss Weasley," said Dumbledore gravely. "And, fortuitously enough, now imbued with Basilisk venom, which is one of the only substances that can destroy a Horcrux."

At the Headmaster's words, Harry's heart and head gave twin thumps. He felt dizzy for a moment and closed his eyes. Ginny noticed immediately and squeezed his hand. Her voice was soft in his ear. "No one will mind if you leave first, you know."

Her presence calmed him. He opened his eyes. "I know," he answered. "But I want to stay." He looked at the Headmaster. "But I don't think I should be the one to destroy it."

"I quite agree," replied Dumbledore. His tone was serious, but his eyes held a hint of a twinkle. "May I suggest that you sit in a chair, perhaps with a basin nearby?"

"I'll sit with him," Ginny said decisively. She got up from her seat and settled herself in Harry's lap.

"This Horcrux seems to know how to torture me as much as it tortures Harry," said Ron dryly.

"Not the time, Ronald," said Ginny.

Harry actually thought it was the perfect time. The longer they joked, the longer he didn't have to think about what was about to happen. Not to mention that having Ginny in his lap, with her long hair tickling his cheek and filling his senses with her flowery scent, was one of the most pleasant things in the world.

"I think Ron should wield the sword," said Dumbledore, as if no one had spoken, "if no one else minds." No one spoke, and Dumbledore nodded. His voice turned grave. "But Harry, I'm afraid you are going to have to be the one to open it. Using Parseltongue."

Harry took a deep breath. Truth was, even with Ginny sitting right there with him, he was feeling rather dizzy, confused, and just _off._ He didn't know if it was the presence of another Horcrux, the sword, or a combination of the two, but he suddenly had a strong feeling that _something_ was about to happen. He pushed the thoughts aside and nodded. Turning towards the locket, which Dumbledore had placed on a small side table, he hissed, "Open Up!"

The doors of the locket popped open. Harry caught sight of a single red eye inside before his mind was dragged away.

Scenes flew past his mind, faster than ever before. The Department of Mysteries was only a blur; the fighters tiny dots. Voldemort was there, and then he was in the graveyard where Cedric had died, and then flying across the wind. There was screaming, and Harry saw a cave, but not the one he and Dumbledore had visited – this one was far remote and lashed with waves. And then, more clearly than anything else, Harry saw two gleaming objects. A shiny gold cup, like a small chalice or trophy, sailed through the air and was caught neatly by Bellatrix Lestrange. "Yes, Master, it will be safe in Gringotts!" he heard her say before the scene shifted and he saw Voldemort, much younger and less snakelike, depositing a tarnished silver tiara in a location Harry knew very well . . .

Harry heard a scream and a crash, and suddenly, he was back in Dumbledore's office. The Horcrux lay smoking on the floor amidst the ruins of Dumbledore's side table; the red eye had disappeared. Ron was standing over it, panting and hold the sword lightly at his side; he looked horrified. Hermione jumped up and ran to him and wrapped him in her arms. "It's not real, none of it was real," she said softly to him "You know he's just like a brother to me, that's all it's ever been."

"Are you okay?" Ginny's voice was soft in his ear. "I know you went . . . somewhere, but I think everyone else was watching Ron. What happened?"

Harry shook his head. "Later." He still wasn't sure everything he had seen and he wasn't ready to share until he had had time to consider. Of course he would tell Ginny right away, but he wanted them to be alone. " What happened here?"

"That's for later too. But I suggest that sometime soon, you tell my brother that you have never, ever fancied Hermione."

Harry twisted Ginny in his lap so he could look her in the eye, "What?"

Ginny kissed him. "Later." She peered in his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Harry kissed her back. "For now I am," he said. "But I want to go to the Room of Requirement later and snog you senseless."


	23. Hiding and Telling

A/N: I intended to include one or two more major scenes in this chapter, but it got long before I got there and I wanted to get it posted. But the next chapter is going to move the plot along quite a bit. This chapter has some M rated content - if you want to avoid that sort of thing, there is a Ginny part, then some non-steamy discussion, then a Harry part. Don't miss the discussion in the middle. Thanks, and please review!

Harry knew he had to stay absolutely away from Dumbledore until he figured things out. He was certain that one look at Harry's face, and the Headmaster would know, would see the location of the two Horcruxes etched there as plainly as if it was written in ink. Thankful the man had not called another meeting, Harry took to skipping meals in the Great Hall, eating in the kitchens at odd hours instead, using whatever excuses he could to explain his absences to his friends.

Of course, it didn't work for long.

On his fourth day of hiding out, Harry slipped down to the kitchens before curfew to find Ginny sitting on a stool, being plied with an enormous plate of sweets by the House elves. Harry sighed, unsurprised and rather relieved to have been caught.

"The map?" he asked resignedly. He reached around her and grabbed a piece of cake; if he was eating, he wouldn't have to answer Ginny's questions quite yet.

"Of course," she said. "I've been watching you ever since you went all weird when we destroyed the locket. I figured that four days was enough moping, even for you." Ginny's tone was joking, but her eyes were serious and filled with concern. "What happened?"

Harry sighed. "I want to tell you. I think I _have to_ tell you; I can't keep it to myself anymore." Ginny was right; he had moped enough. But he knew what Ginny did not, that his news was going to break her heart.

He helped her down off the stool and pulled her into the circle of his arms. "Let's go to the Room of Requirement," he said against her hair. "I'll tell you what . . . I need to tell you. In a bit."

Ginny looked at him and seemed to understand his need immediately. She nodded and slipped under his Invisibility Cloak with him for the walk up to the 5th floor. While they always tried to keep quiet, under the Cloak, given that they were usually using it to sneak into places they shouldn't be, there were usually whispered conversations or giggles as they tripped over each other as they walked. This time, Harry was completely silent. He held Ginny so closely as they walk that she barely needed to move her feet at all; Harry nearly carried her along with him. And when they were in the Room, he threw off the Cloak and continued to hold her for a long minute, swaying silently in the dusky light.

Eventually, Harry took Ginny's hand and led her to one of the comfortable sofas the Room had taken to giving them whenever the group had met. He sat Ginny down in front of him and stood facing her for a long quiet moment, holding both of her hands. When he was satisfied with what he saw in her face, Harry dropped to his knees in front of Ginny (on a pillow that flew over from across the room), so that their eyes were at the same height.

"I want to touch you," he said simply. "If you want me to." He added hurriedly, "and before you say yes, I don't want you to agree just because you are worried about me and think it's what I want. I mean, it is what I want, but I want it for you . . . for us. If . . . you want to."

Ginny loved Harry's nervous babbling; it was sweet and open and honest and Ginny never had to worry about what Harry might be hiding behind his words when he talked to her like that.

"I want you to touch me," she said. She blushed. "I've been thinking about it almost since we first kissed . . .what it would be like to have you . . . touching. Down there."

"Really?" Harry's eyes were wide. "I thought only blokes thought about it."

"Girls can be surprising sometimes, Harry," Ginny gently teased. She took a deep breath. "How do you want to do this?"

"Slowly, I think," said Harry. Inwardly, he thought that the chances of his being able to any of this slowly were quickly eroding. He fully intended to focus entirely on Ginny, he _wanted_ to focus entirely on Ginny . . . but the part of him that was all 16 year old boy was insistently making its presence known. His thought had been to have Ginny on the sofa while he knelt in front of her on the ground; that way, he would have easy access to all her . . . parts, without the total physical contact that tended to push him over the edge too quickly. He leaned forward and pulled Ginny in.

"But I want to kiss you, first," he mumbled.

They kissed for a long time; longer than Harry might have thought he could have managed, knowing where the kissing was going to lead to. But kissing Ginny was both familiar and comforting, and arousing too. She made little sounds of satisfaction whenever Harry's lips or tongue connected with a particularly sensitive patch of skin – behind her right ear, for example – and those sounds never failed to drive Harry crazy. He kept kissing her and she kept making those sounds, and for long minutes, his thoughts of doing more fell out of his head. But eventually the reminder to _Touch Ginny!_ jumped back into his brain and he moved his lips away from her neck with a sigh of contentment.

Ginny had fallen against the back of the sofa's cushions and Harry had scooted forward so that his were feet still on the floor but the rest of him was pretty much lying on top of her and his plan to avoid too much contact was pretty much toast. With supreme effort, he pulled back, trying to ignore the disappointed thump from between his legs now that there was nothing to thrust against.

"Okay, umm, I'm going to try . . . now," he said. Ginny's eyes were closed and she had a relaxed smile on her face.

"Ummmhmmm," she mumbled.

Her supreme relaxation made it easier. Harry decided to start with the familiar territory of Ginny's chest. He opened her shirt and without asking, eyes still closed, she slid her hand around her back and undid her bra. Harry pulled it away and lowered his mouth to Ginny's chest to continue his trailing kisses there. He closed his mouth around one soft nipple and was rewarded with another of Ginny's moans of satisfaction. His other hand moved aimlessly around the other side, tickling, stroking, and feeling as her skin puckered and hardened beneath his fingers.

"This . . . this is lovely, Harry," Ginny said in a languid voice. "I think I'll always let you touch me first."

Her words caused Harry to have to stop touching her for a moment; he finally gave into the insistent pressure between his own legs and adjusted himself so that his erection could brush against the side of Ginny's thigh every time Harry bent forward. _It was okay, he was still in control._

But maybe not in control for long, he thought to himself. Taking a deep breath, Harry sat up a bit so that he could move his hand down, away from Ginny's breasts. He caressed the soft skin of her side, ran his fingers across her stomach, and then moved lower, carefully cupping his hand between her legs. He was still on top of her track pants, but it was the most intimately he had touched her so far.

Ginny responded by thrusting her hips up, so suddenly that Harry's hand flew off and smacked the side of her leg.

"Oops, sorry," he said. "That was a surprise."

"To me too," Ginny said breathlessly. "It felt really good."

"I think I can make it feel even better," said Harry. Encouraged by her reaction to being touched through several layers of clothing, Harry bravely reached up and grabbed the waistband of Ginny's pants. She didn't try to stop him, so in one fluid movement, Harry pulled them all the way down to her ankles, revealing a smallish triangle of cotton just barely covering Ginny's important bits.

Her knickers had blue flowers on them, Harry noted dumbly.

He looked up at Ginny. She had opened her eyes and was now watching him intently. It made him both nervous and confident – nervous that she was apparently going to be observing his technique, but confident to see there was not even a trace of fear or uncertainty on her face.

Taking a deep breath, Harry reached towards the band of her knickers, intending to pull them down. At the last second, his hand moved and he slipped his fingers underneath instead, feeling soft hair and, a little lower, warm wetness.

The wet almost made him lose it right there.

He swallowed. "You are already . . . I mean, is that . . . you're wet!" he finally exclaimed. He wanted to explore this further.

"That's because I'm aroused," said Ginny, a little shyly. To emphasize that fact she pushed upwards against his hand.

"That's brilliant," Harry breathed. Tentatively at first but then with more determination, he explored Ginny's private area with his fingers, dipping one, and then a second inside and reveling in the warmth and in the sounds she made when he moved them in and out. Remembering a page out of the sex book that always seemed to make the rounds of Hogwarts boys when they reached their Fifth year, Harry wiggled his thumb around right above Ginny's opening. At first he wasn't sure he could find it, but suddenly, his thumb connected with a hard little nub and Ginny hissed "yesssss!" and bucked her hips again.

Encouraged, Harry moved his other thumb to that spot so that he could pump his fingers out in rhythm. He was vaguely aware of his own arousal and that he was pushing his erection into the side of Ginny's leg, but the majority of his attention was on her, coming rather undone beneath his hands.

"Oh Merlin, Harry. That's . . . don't stop. . . yes, right there, ohhhh," Ginny was moaning and moving erratically and Harry's hand was a little sore but this was so brilliant he didn't want to ever stop and then, just a few seconds later, Ginny was there. She clenched her legs around Harry's hand and arched her back against the sofa, freezing there for a few moments before relaxing everything at once.

Harry's fingers were still inside her; he gingerly pulled them out and away from her knickers, now slick. Ginny's eyes were closed she was lying back on the sofa, breathing heavily. His hand was sticky; Harry only had to glance around once and suddenly there was a basin of soapy water and a towel by his side.

 _Fooling around in the Room of Requirement really is quite brilliant._

"It was all brilliant, Harry." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"I didn't realize I said that out loud," said Harry. "So . . .it was okay?"

Ginny opened her eyes. "I think you passed merely 'okay' about the time we lay down on the couch." She smirked. "It was much better than anything I've ever done on my own. You paid attention to _Witches' Wonders: What Works and What Won't,_ didn't you? Because I didn't know if you knew about . . . or how to find . . . well, you know."

Harry carefully filed away Ginny's comment about what she may have done _on her own_ and grinned. "Very informative book, that was," he said cheekily.

Ginny stretched like a cat. "I'm looking forward to seeing what else you learned from it." She sat up and tugged on the front of Harry's shirt. "Your turn, I think."

And just like that, Harry felt his happiness drain away. It obviously showed on his face because Ginny sat up straighter and looked at him.

"What is it, Harry? Don't tell me you regret what you just did because I thought it was brilliant. Completely and totally brilliant, and if you feel the slightest bit guilty I'm going to have to hex you."

Harry sighed. Suddenly, giving Ginny her first orgasm right before he planned to tell her that he was, quite possibly, only weeks from dying - _or days? Please let it be more than days –_ didn't seem to have been such a good plan.

"It's nothing like that," he reassured her. "Although, I'm pretty sure that after you hear what I have to say, you'll wish that it was."

"What happened in Dumbledore's office." It was not a question.

Harry nodded heavily. "Yes." He didn't want to prolong the discussion so he jumped right in. "When I opened the locket Horcrux, I went into his mind. Or he went into mine. Or something. I don't know. It felt like the last times I had flashbacks to the Department of Mysteries, but this time, I saw other things too. Things I shouldn't have known."

Ginny slid down off the sofa and sat next to him. After a second, she grabbed his hand. Harry saw that she was looking across the room at the fireplace. Looking, but not really seeing, he suspected. "And . . . ?" she asked.

"And I saw where the last two Horcruxes are. The last two that aren't Nagini and, well, me."

Ginny turned to him, eyes wide. "What? Where?"

"One is here, in this room – no, not right now," Harry pulled Ginny back down when it looked like she was about to jump up off the floor. "It's in the Room of Requirement, but not like this; it's full of discarded junk and broken furniture and things from Hogwarts over the years. I'd never seen the Room like that before, but I knew what it was. There was a big wooden cabinet that looked really familiar for some reason, and next to it was a broken desk with a bust of some old wizard and someone had balanced a tiara on its head. The tiara, that's the Horcrux. I'm sure of it. So all we have to do to get it is . . . leave the Room and ask it to transform to that one. And we'll have another Horcrux."

Ginny opened her mouth as if to speak, but now that he had started, Harry couldn't stop talking.

"The other Horcrux is more difficult. You know, it may take a little while to figure out how to get it, so I guess that is kind of a good thing. I mean, for me. We won't be able to destroy it right away. But I'm sure Dumbledore will figure out a way, he's so brilliant, and I'm sure he has contacts, and everything . . . It's at Gringotts. In a vault at Gringotts. Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. And I expect it's guarded really well, but you know, Dumbledore will be able to figure something out and then we'll have that one too – It's a gold cup thing, by the way. So that's that." Harry tried his hardest to speak as matter-of-factly as he could, but he couldn't keep his voice from wavering at the end of his speech. He didn't even want to look at Ginny, didn't want to see how his words had changed everything for her from what she had been only minutes ago, but he had no choice.

Ginny was staring at him in horror. It was almost as bad, maybe even as bad, as the night she knew he had to die. Then, finding the Horcruxes and his eventual death had been something well into the future – something that was going to take a lot of time and work and false alarms to complete. Now, in the space of less than a week, the locket was gone and Harry knew the locations of two more.

It was almost like being on the Hogwarts Express, Harry thought – for the longest time, it chugged slowly through Kings Cross and then London, and then, without warning, picked up speed and rushed, faster and faster to its destination. The train of his life had definitely sped up now, and Harry didn't see any way of ever getting off, until the very end.

"Maybe it's a mistake." Ginny voice was low and fierce in his ear. "How do you know that what you saw is real? Voldemort planted false visions in your head last year, why wouldn't he do it again? Or maybe this isn't even Voldemort at all – maybe it's something your mind constructed because you have been thinking about Horcruxes so much lately. It's probably not real. It can't be real!" Her voice rose at the end into something close to hysteria and Harry pulled her closer to him.

"I'm pretty sure it's real," said Harry heavily. "And I don't think Voldemort showed me on purpose – why would he want me to know where the other Horcruxes are? I think our connection is . . . changing somehow, because of the Horcrux in me becoming so active. It's like, maybe it wants to get back to its master or something."

"Do you think Voldemort knows you are a Horcrux?" Ginny's face was still pale and tear-streaked, but Harry could tell she was trying to control her emotional outburst.

"I don't know," said Harry slowly. It was something he had been thinking about the past week. "Dumbledore doesn't think Voldemort can tell when one of the Horcruxes he has made is destroyed – those soul pieces have been separated from him for too long. But I'm different. When he was in my head at the Department of Mysteries, who knows what he saw?"

Harry could tell Ginny was reluctant to say anything more, so he did it for her. "We have to tell Dumbledore and the others. These Horcruxes have to be destroyed."

"And the snake," said Ginny. "I know. We all know. It just seems . . . a lot more real now than it did when we didn't know what the other ones were." She gave Harry a hopeful look. "But, can we maybe wait a little while, to tell the others? Not long, but, I just want . . ." she trailed off.

Harry knew how Ginny felt. He was still warring with himself about how soon he needed to tell Dumbledore and the others about the Horcruxes. He had finally given up feeling guilty about his desire to wait; anyone who was not a nutter would want to put off the march towards death as long as possible. But Harry had also come to terms with the fact that he was not going to put off that march indefinitely; for better or for worse, he was just too noble to run and hide and save his own skin as the expense of pretty much everyone else in the Wizarding world.

"We can wait. A couple of days at least," he said, kissing Ginny lightly. "But I'll warn you, it's hard to keep it a secret. Look how quickly you knew I was hiding something."

"Maybe I can nudge my brother towards finally snogging Hermione; that should distract them. And you know that Neville would never push you about anything you weren't ready to share on your own."

"But I bet Luna would figure it out immediately," said Harry with a grin. "She would take one look in my eyes and either know I knew where the Horcruxes were or else decide that my head was full of Stinksap and I needed to be rolled in a field of gillyweed for something."

Ginny giggled. It was a teary, weak sounding giggle, but Harry appreciated how hard she was trying. "And I suppose seeing Professor Dumbledore is completely out of the question," she said.

"Absolutely," said Harry. "Until you cornered me in the kitchen, I had finally decided that I would try to find the tiara Horcrux in the next day or two." He heard Ginny's intake of breath and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "But I think we can wait a little longer."

Ginny nodded. "I want to come with you when you find it," she said. "You could have a bad reaction when it gets close to you and you shouldn't be alone."

"It's a deal," said Harry. He sighed, trying to lighten the mood. "What a fucking nightmare. All I want to do is be able to snog my girlfriend for an hour or two and the universe keeps conspiring against me."

Ginny matched him. "Language, Potter!" she said, swatting his arm. She took a deep breath. "Maybe we can . . . I mean, I still need to . . ." she gestured in the direction of Harry's waist. "I know it's not exactly the time, but . . ."

"I think it's exactly the time," said Harry firmly. He looked sheepish. "Actually, I kind of hoped that telling you everything while we were here and alone might make you want to, as a way to feel better or something."

Ginny actually snorted. "What a fucked up way to try to get me out of my pants."

"Language, Weasely!" said Harry. "And technically, I think it's my turn to get out of my pants. If I remember correctly, you have already been out of your pants."

"And out of my mind," Ginny agreed. She stood up and tugged on his arm. "The sofa is much more comfortable."

Harry eagerly scrambled onto the sofa. He knew it wasn't a permanent solution to the pain, but welcomed any chance at distraction. And this time, he knew that Ginny needed it too.

He flopped down, stretching out long, and she sat next to him, biting her lip. "So, umm, what do you want me to do?"

"Whatever you want," said Harry promptly. "I mean, whatever you feel comfortable doing," he amended.

"Can I . . . look at it?" she asked tentatively. "You kept my knickers on, before."

"That's because I wasn't sure if you were okay with me looking," said Harry honestly. "If I'd thought to ask ahead of time to ask, I would have pulled them off. Probably." It suddenly occurred to him that he was essentially giving Ginny permission to see him completely naked. It was exciting, but also a little nerve-inducing to think about, being on display like that.

 _He wondered how soon he could see Ginny._

"Yeah, sure. You can look," he said, feeling his face flame. Ginny saw this. "If you don't want me to . . . " she said quickly, her own face reddening as well.

"No, no, it's fine. I mean, more than fine. I do," said Harry. He grabbed Ginny's hand and looked her in the eye. "I want you to," he said sincerely. "I think it's exciting." As if she needed further proof, he moved their joined hands down so she could feel his arousal.

Ginny pushed on Harry's chest until he was lying flat against the pillows again. He closed his eyes in anticipation of whatever it was she decided to do. After a second, he felt her lie down next to him. She was apparently on her side; one of her legs snaked around Harry's hip and her arm was across his chest.

She began with kissing. Harry really wanted to kiss her back, but Ginny stayed agonizingly (and probably deliberately) away from his mouth. She kissed his cheek, along his jaw, nibbled on his ear – which drove him crazy – and then moved to his neck. The hand across his chest had moved down to his stomach and she tugged aside the bottom of his shirt and slipped her hand underneath. She tickled Harry's stomach for a moment and then stopped.

"Take off your shirt, please," she commanded. Harry complied quickly, raising himself up just high enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it on the floor. Harry heard a rustling; he opened his eyes enough to see that Ginny had pulled off her own shirt as well; her bra was nowhere to be seen. She caught him staring and shrugged. "I wanted to feel my skin against yours."

"Yes, please," Harry said thickly. They hadn't even gotten to anything below his waist and he already, the urge to thrust into something was intense. He closed his eyes again and suddenly, Ginny was on top of him and all her parts were pressing into his and there was nothing between her breasts and his skin and it was glorious.

This time, Ginny kissed him fully on the mouth, opening immediately and tangling her tongue with his. Harry grabbed Ginny's bum with both hands and pushed her down into him; he couldn't stifle his groan of pleasure.

Ginny pulled her lips away from his. "Careful Harry, you don't want to come before I get a chance to help."

"You're already helping quite enough, thank you very much," said Harry. He really, really wanted to see what else Ginny had planned, but at the same time, he did not want her to move off of him. Fortunately, he was not the one who had to decide.

Suddenly, Ginny's lips disappeared but the delicious pressure in Harry's groin increased tenfold; he felt a breeze on his chest and realized she had sat up and was now straddling him completely. His erection was directly pressing into her and it was best thing Harry had ever felt.

"Oh god, Ginny, that's . . . that's. . ."

"I know," she responded. She sounded rather out of breath.

Ginny grabbed Harry's hands and rocked back and forth and Harry could not help bucking his hips up to meet her thrusts. He didn't want to orgasm yet, he really didn't, but it was getting more and more difficult to think he was going to be able to control that particular reaction.

Fortunately for Harry's control, Ginny rolled off of him a few seconds later. She paused, both of her hands splayed on the bare skin of his stomach, and then began fiddling gently with the soft trail of dark hair that disappeared below the waistband.

He couldn't help bucking his hips as her fingers tickled the dip of his hips and she giggled softly.

"Giggling . . . doesn't help . . . a bloke's confidence," gasped Harry. Ginny's hand had dipped into his boxers and for the first time, he felt someone else's hand touch his penis.

"I haven't even seen it yet, Harry." Ginny sounded amused. "You are better off worrying about me giggling once your pants are down." As if to prove her point, she grabbed at his waist and pulled both pants and boxers down in one swift but careful motion.

Harry's erection sprang free and he heard Ginny suck in her breath. "That's a better reaction," he managed, just before she took him in both hands and began stroking gently. She played with his tip, cupped his sac, and then wrapped her hands gently around him and moved them slowly up and down. He resisted the urge to help, really it all felt brilliant, but was driving him crazy at the same time. He bucked his hips again, into her hands. "It's okay . . . to hold me . . . harder," he said.

"It won't hurt? Will you show me?" Ginny's voice was both unsure and aroused and Harry almost lost it right then.

He reached down and put his hand over both of Ginny's. He pushed them down hard against the base of his shaft and grunted with pleasure. He tugged a bit as he moved her hands up and she matched his rhythm until, all to soon, he felt pressure building.

"I'm going to come," he warned. "Soon."

In response, Ginny pushed down hard again and groaned low in her throat. Harry caught a look at her face; she was staring at their combined hands, a look on intense concentration in her eyes. A lock of hair had fallen over her cheek and she blew it impatiently out of the way.

Harry lost it completely, spurting over his stomach and their hands. He kept his hand over Ginny's as his erection faded before grabbing his wand to whisper the spell that would clean them up. Then he pulled Ginny onto his chest and wrapped his arms around her, rocking them both gently back and forth.

"Thank you," he said simply. "I love you."

"I love you too, Harry," Ginny said. She sounded sleepy.

Harry knew they had to sneak back soon, but like the decision about the Horcruxes, he decided that it would be okay to hide from reality just a little bit longer.


	24. Fog and Fire

A/N: For those of you who prefer action over romance, I think this chapter will fit the bill nicely. I've been thinking about this for a long time.

For those of you who like the sexy stuff, you are just going to have to wait. Please review - this chapter really kicked my ass!

Ginny understood why Harry had avoided everyone after he learned where the two Horcruxes were. Now that she knew, the thought of telling everyone, of actively taking steps to place Harry closer to his own death, was more than she could bear. She cried everywhere she could think of that was private – in the shower, in bed with silencing charms set around her drapes, while she was flying (that was a good one, she could blame her red eyes on the wind), and even once halfway down the passageway to the shrieking shack, where she let herself collapse against a tree root and sob.

Harry was solicitous of her obvious need to be alone. He didn't push her to talk and never commented on the state of her eyes or puffy face. He held her hand when they were together and gave her chaste kisses whenever he could. He cried in the shower too, for her this time, not himself.

Predictably, Hermione was the first one to notice Ginny's frequent absences and generally depressed demeanor. After two days of watching, she cornered Harry after Transfiguration and peppered him with questions – was Ginny okay, had anything come between the two of them, should they go to Dumbledore – until finally, Harry gave her an answer that was the truth, but not.

"I think that everything has just really sunk in with her, Hermione. It takes time to absorb, you know. I'm helping her work through it."

That satisfied Hermione, which meant that Ron didn't ask any questions either, about why his sister's appetite had suddenly been cut in half or why her eyes were always red. Neville knew to keep his mouth shut of course, and Luna had taken to offering to "cleanse Ginny's aura" during the next full moon to help eliminate the Nargles that had taken up residence inside her.

Harry would have gone on letting Ginny take her time in coming to terms with the news – and really, Harry himself was in no rush either – but for the encounter he had with Malfoy. The other boy was leaving Professor Flitwick's office, looking happier than Harry remembered seeing him in weeks. Harry grasped his wand tightly; he didn't trust Malfoy to abide by the school rules that prohibited hexing other students in the hallways. But Draco merely gave him a cocky grin. As he walked by, he remarked under his breath, "there's a lot to find in the Room of Requirement, isn't there, Potter?" He rushed down the hall, turned the corner, and disappeared.

Harry grabbed the Maurader's Map out of his pocket and hurried into an empty classroom. Sure enough, he could see Draco's dot heading for the Seventh Floor corridor. He searched some more until he found Ginny in the Gryffindor Common Room. Thankful that classes were over for the day, Harry rushed upstairs.

Ginny was sitting at a table, books and parchment spread out in front of her as if she was doing homework, but Harry was not fooled; her parchment was nearly blank. She looked up as Harry came into the room.

He sat down next to her, gave her a quick kiss, and grabbed her hand. "It's time, we have to go now."

"Where? To the Room? Now?"

Quickly, Harry showed her the Map and told her about what Draco had said. "What if he's going to get the tiara right now? What is Voldemort knows I know about it and wants Malfoy to move it somewhere safer?

Ginny's face crumpled. "It's my fault," she whispered. "I kept you from getting it days ago."

"No, it's not," said Harry firmly. "Remember, I knew about it days before I even told you, and I didn't do anything either. " He pulled the Map out again. "Look, Malfoy is almost there. We'll see if he tries to leave and we can intercept him." He grabbed her hand and looked her straight in the eye. "Are you sure you want to do this with me? I'm find going alone, or I suppose I could tell Dumbledore."

"I'm going," said Ginny decisively. "The Horcrux is easiest to manage when I'm around, if you haven't noticed. You need me."

Harry smiled. "Of course I do."

HPHPHPHPHPHP

The walk to the Seventh Floor took a remarkably short time. To Harry's surprise and concern, the door to the Room was visible when they arrived, and it seemed not to be completely shut; they could see a thin beam of light from inside shining on the floor.

"Maybe Neville is right." Ginny spoke first, whispering. "Maybe this doesn't have anything to do with the Horcrux and Malfoy was baiting you to come here?" She looked around. "Do you think he has Crabbe and Goyle in there too? Maybe we should get the others."

Harry took a deep breath. He was feeling frantic to rush through the door and find out, once and for all, what Malfoy was up to. Tiara, no tiara, there was something else - Harry's suspicions about the other boy that had been growing ever since June - would no longer be put aside. But Ginny was with him, and dragging people he loved into dangerous situations without thinking first usually ended up being a bad idea.

"I don't know who is in there, or what they are doing," he said. "It's probably very dangerous. I know I almost get Ron killed yearly, but I'd rather not continue that tradition with you. Maybe we should contact Dumbledore."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Nice try, Harry. You almost got me killed last summer at the Department of Mysteries, remember? So I'm all in now." She peered harder at the door. "And anyway, I don't think there is time to get anyone else. If he's in there, and we can get in, we need to go now."

Harry nodded. This was exactly why he loved Ginny so much. "Okay. But stay close to me and keep your eyes open. I don't trust Malfoy for anything."

Cautiously, he pushed open the door. Inside, the room looked much like it had in Harry's mind; piles of old furniture and broken objects stacked in haphazard piles with narrow passageways snaking through the junk farther back into the room. The light was dim and it was very quiet.

"Where did you see it?" Ginny whispered next to him.

"On a desk, next to a big cabinet-thing." Harry closed his eyes to try to remember the scene. Once again, he was struck with a sense of déjà vu that he had seen the cabinet before, somewhere else.

"Should we split up to look for it?" Ginny didn't sound very eager to do so.

"Absolutely not. Stay close, I can feel that we aren't far." In fact, Harry's scar was beginning to ache and for a second, the Room swam sickeningly before his eyes. "Actually, stay really close," he said. Ginny immediately understood and grabbed his hand. The contact cleared Harry's head and he squeezed back. "Try to keep touching me as much as you can, unless there is danger," he said. "I think you're right; I need you to fight the new Horcrux."

They walked a couple of feet further into the room. All of Harry's senses were on high alert. He was vaguely aware of a thumping in his scar, but it seemed mixed up with a fog in his head and he couldn't tell where the pain stopped and the . . . nothingness began. When Ginny reached up and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, the fog coalesced into an almost pleasant feeling for a second. Before he could think more about it, Ginny gave a soft intake of breath.

"There, Harry, is that the cabinet?" In front of them was a large wooden box with odd carvings. Harry couldn't see a door, he assumed it was on the side facing away from them. Next to it, the desk with the stone bust and perched on top, _the tiara._ Despite his strong grasp on Ginny, his scar gave a stronger thump when he made eye contact with it. But almost immediately after, the warm foggy feeling chased the pain away. Harry shook his head to clear it and focused for a second on the cabinet.

"Yes!" he hissed back. Suddenly he realized why it looked so familiar. "I hid in one just like it in Borgin and Burke a couple of years ago!" he said, his excitement at solving that mystery made him speak a little more loudly than he intended.

"Very good, Potter. Observant of you." Harry and Ginny froze as Draco walked around from the back of the cabinet. He had his wand pointed at them and a dull silver object Harry did not recognize in the other.

"I wouldn't try anything, either of you," Malfoy said. "I've created a lot of Dark Magic in the room right now; one false move by either of you could be quite . . . dangerous." He gave them a grim smile, but Harry saw him tremble as he clutched the . . . thing more tightly in his fist.

Harry squeezed Ginny's hand again. "I'm going to let go," he said under his breath. "We need both hands free." Next to him, Ginny nodded.

Letting go of Ginny was immediately disorienting. The pain her presence had kept at bay roared back with a vengeance, and Harry struggled to stay in the moment. He took deep breaths, praying inwardly that having the tiara so close would not plunge him back into flashbacks.

Draco saw their hands drop and he smiled again. "Together, apart, it doesn't matter," he said. "I am finally ready to fulfill my Master's tasks. Getting the blood traitor at the same time is just going to be a bonus. Hogwarts is going to look quite different by nightfall." He stepped closer to them and yelled "Sectumsempra!"

Harry got his shield up just in time. Next to them, he saw that Ginny's shield was up too. "Good one, Gin," he said. "Let's try to bind him. It's two on one."

But just then, there was a movement behind the cabinet and Crabbe stepped out. Harry's heart dropped; he expected Goyle was close behind and their odds were going to be much worse. But it was just Crabbe. Draco looked sharply at him. "The others?" he asked.

Crabbe nodded. "Soon," he replied. "Including your father."

It may have been Harry's imagination, but Draco suddenly looked less confident to hear that his father was involved in . . . whatever this was. His mouth tightened as he nodded. "I will succeed where my father could not," he said quietly. "And when I do . . ." he trailed off, looking at Harry and Ginny. "Never mind. That fool of a headmaster got at least one thing right; Azkeban could never contain the Death Eaters once the Dementors defected from the Ministry." He looked at Crabbe. "Whatever you want to do."

They began to battle. Ginny was an excellent fighter, thanks to the DA and the Department of Mysteries, and Harry relaxed a fraction and stopped trying to keep an eye on her. Draco was a strong fighter too; Harry didn't want to think who may have been teaching him. Crabbe was not, but what he lacked in technique and reflexes, he made up for in the evilness of his spells. Harry had never seen many of the curses he was firing; they leeched dark magic into the air and felt lethal, or at least extremely dangerous.

Harry moved almost without thinking, parrying curses, dodging hexes, and throwing up shields whenever he could. He was vaguely aware that something felt _different_ as he moved, but he couldn't concentrate enough to put his finger on it. He had some success pushing furniture over to block Draco's progress; but stopped this tactic when a birdcage he shot exploded too close to the bust and tiara.

And all the while, Harry's scar was throbbing. He could feel the darkness at the edge of his brain, threatening to pull him under, particularly when his steps brought him too close to the tiara Horcrux. But then he'd catch sight of Ginny out of the corner of his eye, or the fog in his brain would descend, and he would find himself able to focus and keep moving. The Room was hot, and smoke from their combined curses was making it difficult to see his surroundings, but Harry remained focused on three things: Malfoy and Crabbe, who seemed to have figured out how to coordinate their attacks and were moving closer and closer; the tiara Horcrux, hazy in the dim light; and Ginny.

At one point, he was certain he saw the tiara shaking on its base, a dark glow surrounding it. It seemed to be pulling him closer to it as he and Ginny circled and fought Malfoy and Crabbe and Harry wanted to look at it and hold it and maybe put it on. But then he saw Ginny squint at the tiara, an odd look on her face, and the pull on him disappeared.

"Stay away from the tiara," he hissed at her during a tiny lull. Malfoy and Crabbe had disappeared behind the cabinet. "It's definitely trying to get pull us towards it."

Ginny nodded and took a deep breath, stepping farther away.

And then Draco and Crabbe were suddenly back, and Draco had a renewed look of purpose on his face. He was holding his wand differently, and the silver object in his hand – Harry could now see it was a silver skull – had a dull glow.

Harry paused, a feeling of foreboding filling him. Ginny was further away than he wanted; she had moved to look around the back of the cabinet where Crabbe and Malfoy had been. Harry saw Crabbe watch her step away and heard Draco's voice, chanting an odd, horrible sounding incantation.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Crabbe screamed out a curse in Ginny's direction and a rush of green light shot towards her. Harry wasn't sure if he actually heard the _Avada Kedavra_ or imagined it but suddenly he was in front of her, pushing them both out of the way and onto the floor and the curse flew just over their entwined bodies. As Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny he felt a warmth flow through him that had nothing to do with the heat in the room and the fog grew more dense around his brain.

"Fool!" he heard Draco yell. "You missed! Now I have to start over! Just let me do it – you keep an eye on the door and take care of the girl."

Reflexively, Harry rolled Ginny away from him as Draco bore down on them. "Stupify!" Draco yelled, and Harry felt his body freeze in its spot on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ginny get up and begin again to battle with Crabbe, but before he could even begin to think how to help her, Draco was there, his face a mix of fear, determination, and triumph. He held the skull, chanting at it once again. The skull glowed brighter and Draco's eyes along with it as he held up his wand and pointed it at the skull, and then at Harry, and then back again at the skull.

 _Run, Ginny. Please, get out of here. Go!_ Harry was screaming at her in his head and he had no idea what was happening in her battle with Crabbe, which had taken them around the back side of the cabinet. He thought he still heard the exchange of spells, but the pain in his head was getting unbearable too quickly for him to even know what was happening and there was a fog that was wrapping around him and he felt, rather than saw, Draco move his wand back to Harry's chest.

"I told you Harry, years ago. You needed to choose the right friends." Draco's voice was colder than Harry had ever heard it. "You chose wrong. And now, I get to be the one to end it. Crabbe, freeze the girl and come watch. You will be able to tell the world that you witnessed the destruction of Harry Potter!"

The fog in Harry's brain enveloped him. For a brief instant there was nothingness, and then the nothingness was met with the feeling that he could not let Ginny be hurt, he would not let Ginny be hurt. The fog closed in more heavily. Instead of being suffocating though, something loosened within Harry and suddenly he could move. He jumped to his feet but could not move out of the way just as Draco yelled the words.

"Avada Kedavra!"

And the fog burst out of Harry and surrounded him like a blanket and in him mind, he saw Ginny running towards him and the curse disappeared into the air.

In front of Harry, Draco screamed in frustration, and then the scream turned into one of fear, and then pain. The fog had grown to envelope Draco's hand and the skull in it began to glow brighter and brighter, and then it was on fire and Draco was unable to let it go and the fire was moving up his arm. The sounds he was making were the most horrible Harry had ever heard.

"Ginny!" Harry screamed himself, and then seconds later, Crabbe and Ginny came around from the back of the cabinet, still battling. Ginny's cheek was bleeding but she was fighting fiercely.

And then Crabbe saw Malfoy. The flames were one Malfoy's chest now and he was thrashing around in agony he reached out towards Crabbe, but the boy backed away, then turned and sprinted for the open door of the cabinet.

Ginny was the first to cast an Augamenti charm, and Harry's joined seconds later. Over and over they doused Malfoy with water, only to see it evaporate in puffs of steam.

"Master, please, Master." Harry could hear Malfoy crying as the flames continued to consume. "Father . . . help me, father . . ." his words ended in a gurgle as the fire reached Draco's throat. Harry pulled Ginny back as the burning figure staggered and then fell into the side of the cabinet, which almost immediately went up in flames itself.

Harry kept one arm wrapped tightly around Ginny, ready to run if the fire spread. It didn't seem interested in any of the wooden tables and chairs or books piled around, but with a pop, a tiny flame jumped away from the cabinet and landed on top of the bust and tiara. Ginny started to move towards it and Harry held her back. "Let it burn," he said tersely. "I think the fire is killing it."

The tiara burned and the rest of the fire stayed contained to only the cabinet and to the now still body curled up at its edge. And yet, Harry heard more screaming, and it seemed to be coming from inside the burning wooden container. He took half a step closer.

"Do you hear that Harry?" Ginny too was leaning in, listening.

"I think there were people . . . inside . . . when it started to burn," Harry said quietly. "Crabbe, and others. Malfoy's dad, it sounds like."

Ginny didn't say anything, just shuddered in Harry's arms. Together, they stood and watched as the cabinet burned into a pile of ash. The fog had disappeared and the pain in Harry's head was gone. He stared, uncomprehending, at the space and then suddenly pushed away to dart behind a pile of broken desks. Ginny heard him retching and she turned in the direction he had gone. But Harry was back before she had taken two steps and he held her again.

"We need to go directly to Dumbledore," he said, voice harsh against her hair. "And we need to take the tiara with us." It had not been consumed, but still smoldered on top of the bust. It seemed to have cracked open in the heat and a tarry substance was leaking out.

Ginny found her voice. "And . . and, we should take . . . that," she said, pointing. Harry looked at the pile of ash that, until minutes ago, had been Draco Malfoy. Nestled in the center was the silver skull. It was no longer glowing but steam was rising from it.

"Don't touch it," Harry warned her. He had no idea what he was thinking at that moment, but he knew the thing was dangerous. "We'll need to levitate it."

In the end, they put levitation charms on both the tiara and the skull and covered them with Harry's Invisibility Cloak to transport them to Dumbledore's office.

Harry had expected, or assumed, that the Headmaster would be alone; he was unprepared to see their friends there ahead of them, talking over each other in a panic, and Dumbledore standing amongst them, listening intently while watching several of his delicate silver instruments.

His and Ginny's appearance was met with a moment of shocked silence, and then an explosive clamor as everyone began talking at once and Hermione threw herself into Harry's arms. "We thought you were dead!" She cried.

It was too much for both of them, after the horror they had just experienced. Ginny swayed where she stood, looking completely disoriented. Harry pushed aside his own deep unease and let go of Hermione in time to catch Ginny as her legs crumpled. A chair was thrust under him and he sat heavily, pulling Ginny into his lap.

"That seems to be becoming your chair." Dumbledore's voice was grave. "Harry, Ginny, I can see you have been through a terrible ordeal. I'm sorry I have to ask you to share more. Can you tell us where Malfoy is?"

Harry's head jerked up. "How did you know?" In his arms, Ginny began to cry.

"The Map," said Ron. "You left it in the Common Room. When we looked at it, we could see the Room of Requirement on there – no idea why, it's never shown up before. You two were there, and Malfoy and Crabbe, all moving around. And then the names of Death Eaters kept fading in and out. Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, a guy called Yaxley. That's when we brought the map to Dumbledore.

"And then Crabbe disappeared, and a couple of seconds later, Malfoy did too. And the Death Eaters." Neville took up the story. "And then the room itself faded off the Map but you were both still inside."

"Shortly before you two arrived, I got a message about a strange fire in Borgin and Burke, the very shop where Merope Gaunt sold her family heirloom locket all those years ago." Dumbledore walked over to stand before Harry and Ginny. "The only thing that burned was a large Vanishing Cabinet. It just burst into flames with no warning. Old Mr. Borgin had just let a number of Death Eaters into his shop and they had entered the cabinet just before it caught on fire. He said that none of them emerged."

"They're dead," said Harry flatly. There was no easy way to say it. "All of them." He tried to ignore the gasps of horror and surprise. "And Ginny and I, I'm surprised we aren't dead too." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"I've been keeping something from all of you," Harry admitted. He told them about his flashback and his knowledge of where the Horcruxes were. He waited for condemnation or protest or sadness, or any of the other emotions he and then Ginny had been feeling for the past weeks, but none came. Obviously, everyone already understood there was too much more to the story.

Slowly, Harry began to explain what had happened that day, beginning with Draco's comment outside Professor Flitwick's office.

"Yes, Filius came to me shortly thereafter, to tell me that Mr. Malfoy had been asking a lot of questions about how to charm two similar objects in different locations. He seemed quite pleased with the answer he got."

"The cabinets," said Ginny thickly. She had stopped crying and seemed to be trying to come back to herself and the room. Ron got up and put his hand on her shoulder for a long moment, and Ginny leaned into it. "Thanks, Ron," she said quietly.

"Draco must have done something to the Room to keep the door open so we could get in," continued Harry. "That's why it stayed visible on the Map, at least until he . . . until he died." He shared as much as he could remember from the fight, Draco's comments about 'others,' and how Hogwarts would look different by the evening. All the while, Professor Dumbledore and the others listened silently.

When Harry got to the part of the story involving the tiara and the silver skull, Dumbledore jumped to his feet. "Where are they now?" he asked sharply.

"Umm, right here," said Harry. He pulled off the Invisibility Cloak to reveal the objects, covered in soot and still smoking slightly, hovering in the air. A small shower of ash rained down from them.

Hermione looked sick. "Is that . . . ?" she asked.

Harry nodded grimly. "We tried to put out the flames. Nothing would work."

"They were cursed," said Dumbledore. "You would not have been able to put out the fire no matter what you tried."

He had moved the tiara over to the small table that held the remains of the locket and was now circling the skull slowing, mumbling a spell. After a minute, he looked up at Harry. "And did you say you felt different while you were in the Room?"

Harry shut his eyes to try to figure out the best way to explain what had happened, how the fog seemed to take the place of the pain at times, how the tiara seemed to call to him and Ginny, how he had been able to move more quickly than he could have imagined to pull Ginny out of the way of Crabbe's killing curse. What he could not describe was the look on Malfoy's face as the skull began to burn, or the sounds coming from the cabinet as it too, went up in flames.

"They were evil, pure evil," he finally said. "But I wish they hadn't died that way."

"You grant them more peace than they deserve," said Ron bitterly. "Malfoy would have killed you and not thought twice."

"I'm afraid Mr. Weasley is right," said Dumbledore. "But we have a bigger problem."

Harry looked up blankly. "Bigger than Malfoy trying to kill me and Ginny and a bunch of Death Eaters trying to break in to the school?"

Dumbledore sighed. "This skull," he said, pointing at it with his wand. "You said Malfoy was holding it and saying incantations right before he said the Avada Kedavra?"

Harry nodded. "It was not a spell I had ever heard before."

"I wouldn't have expected you to know that spell, in fact, I would have been disturbed if you did," said the Headmaster. "From what you have told me, and from the magical signature left on the skull, I'm positive that Draco was preparing it to become another Horcrux. One that he made with your death."

"But why would Draco have wanted to rip out his own soul?" Ginny had sat up straighter in Harry's arms and was paying avid attention to the discussion. "He kept talking about a task for 'His Master.' That means Voldemort, right?"

"Yes, Miss Weasley," said Dumbledore. "But it was not his own soul Draco sought to rend, although any time one kills in anger or evil they cause great damage to their soul anyway. No, I believe that Draco's intent was to rip out the soul piece in Harry, Voldemort's unintended soul piece, and put it into a different object, to become a more stationary Horcrux."

No one spoke.

"Which means," the headmaster continued grimly, "that Voldemort knows that a piece of his soul lives within Harry."


	25. Interludes: Dumbledore and HarryGinny

After confirming that the literal fire in the Room of Requirement was extinguished (it had apparently gone out on its own once the cabinet had been consumed), Dumbledore turned his attention to the metaphorical fires that had erupted in the wake of Harry's and Ginny's experience. The Obliviators were on the scene at Borgin and Burke, modifying memories of Mr. Borgin and a few others who had seen the flames inside the shop. He spoke to the Aurors about confirming the identities of those who died in the Vanishing Cabinet; in addition to Crabbe, Gregory Goyle had apparently also been inside with both of their fathers, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy.

The Headmaster was preparing himself to speak with Narcissa Malfoy, gathering his thoughts on how to comfort a woman who had lost both her husband and son because of their Dark activities. But an owl from St. Mungo's spared him the awful task. Narcissa had been admitted to the long-term memory loss ward after a disastrous attempt to Obliviate herself had nearly eviscerated her brain.

The deaths of the Malfoys and Lestranges did have one unintended consequence: Harry was now the undisputed heir to the entirety of the fortune of the House of Black, which Sirius had left him upon his death. That fortune included the Lestrange vault at Gringotts and all of its contents, including, according to Harry, one gold cup formerly owned by Helga Hufflepuff and now a Horcrux containing a piece of Voldemort's soul. Using connections only he possessed, Dumbledore made immediate overtures to the Goblins, and within the hour, the cup was sitting on his desk. He shook his head as he looked at it; the series of events that had led to the rapid recovery of two more Horcruxes astounded even him. Setting a number of wards around the object, he turned to the next matters at hand; destroying the thing could wait.

The Pensieve swirled with his thoughts; he knew no better way to try to find the connections that had been tickling his brain for weeks now. The flashbacks, the fog, the Unbreakable Vow, Harry's best sources of power to fight the Horcrux, his incomprehensible escape from Draco's death curse, Ginny and the others. Yes, they all pointed to changes in the Horcrux buried inside Harry, but to what result? How would it react as it neared his true host, Voldemort? And, even more worrisome, did Harry's flashbacks signify a deeper instability in that bit of soul, a conflict from which Harry could never emerge? One which might destroy his own soul or his own mind? No one knew what kind of means of self-preservation Horcruxes possessed; the ones Dumbledore had seen so far were all different and all deadly.

The Headmaster sighed. He would keep his concerns to himself for now; the boy had more than enough to think about already. But Voldemort knowing that Harry had become an unintended Horcrux shortened the timeline for decision making. There was no telling when the Dark Wizard might try to attack; while he would certainly need time to recoup after the loss of some of his most loyal followers, he still commanded plenty. Yes, plans would have to made. Soon.

INTERLUDE: HARRY AND GINNY

"Things are going to end a lot sooner than we thought, now that Voldemort knows I'm a Horcrux."

"I know. It's pretty much all I've been thinking about."

"Do you think the others have figured it out?

"You mean, do you think Hermione has figured it out? Yes, about five seconds after Dumbledore did."

"Yeah, you're right. Your brother probably took a little longer."

"I'd be insulted on his behalf, but you are probably right."

"Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"There is something I need to ask you. About . . .us."

"I know, Harry."

"You do?"

"Yes. It's pretty much the only other thing I've been thinking about. And I have to admit, I enjoy thinking about it a lot more than Voldemort."

"I wouldn't even bring it up if . . . if . . ."

"If you knew you had more time."

"Right. If I knew I had more time. But I don't. So I was wondering. . . "

"Harry, yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I think that we should . . . make love to each other. Before everything . . . before you . . . "

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm just so, so sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I don't mean to cry; I know it doesn't help anything."

"Cry all you need to. Except, of course, when we are actually . . . you know. Cause that could give me a complex."

"Hmmph. You always have a way of making me feel better."

"I try."

"Do you know when you want to . . .?"

"Soon, I think. I think we should talk to Dumbledore first, make some plans. And there is still Nagini."

"Yes! Nagini! I forgot about Nagini. Nothing can happen while the snake is alive, right?"

"Right. But still, I don't want to wait."

"Of course you don't. Boys."

"You always have a way of making me feel better, Ginny. I love you."

"I love you too, Harry."


	26. Eleven Days

A/N: When I first came back to writing this story after a ten year break, my main goal was to get the story finished. I wrote frantically for a while and when I got to this chapter, so close to the end, I realized I needed to convey the passage of time without bogging everyone (and especially myself) down in a lot of exposition and random plot. Hence, the description of the eleven days. If I had to do again, I might change it, but then again, I think it mostly works here, so maybe not.

Once again, they were all together in the Headmaster's office. Harry had called the meeting this time; he didn't want to wait for someone else to make the decision. He also was the first one to speak.

"We have to prepare for my confrontation with Voldemort." Direct and unemotional was the only way Harry was going to get through this discussion. "I don't know if the snake will be dead by then, but if not, each of you must be prepared to hunt it down and kill it. And then go after him."

"What if, what if . . . you strike Voldemort first?" Neville had a hopeful look on his face. "Doesn't the prophecy say 'one must die at the hand of the other?' So, couldn't Voldemort die at your hand?"

Harry shook his head. He and Dumbledore had discussed this in private; now it was time to tell everyone else. "Even if I could possibly beat him in duel – which I can't – merely trying to kill him with the Avada Kedavra won't work."

"Because of the Horcrux in you. He can't die as long as there is a Horcrux in you." For once, Hermione did not look at all happy to have gotten the answer right.

Harry nodded. Exactly. And because he knows I'm a Horcrux, he's going to prepare ahead of time to get it out of me while he kills me. That is what Draco was trying to do – get the Horcrux out of me and put it into that skull. But since he failed, we reckon that Voldemort is going to do it himself. Remember, the way to destroy a Horcrux is to put its container beyond all magical repair. I don't have to guess what that will require him to do to me."

He tuned out the predictable clamor that accompanied his words. Maybe it was because the inevitability of everything had finally hit him, but Harry was having a difficult time maintaining a constant sense of sadness and horror at his fate. He suspected he was practicing avoidance, but for the moment, he didn't care. All he really wanted to do was snog Ginny, and more. Normal, 16 year old bloke things, really.

"That soon?" Ginny's devastated cry broke through Harry's haze. He looked up from where he had been tracing circles on her hand.

"When?" he asked.

"A week from Friday," repeated Dumbledore. "There will not be a full moon that night, so we have less to worry about if he brings Greyback."

"But how exactly are we going to make sure Voldemort is where we want him to be, a . . . a week from Friday?" Leave it to Ron, considering tactics and strategy.

Dumbledore nodded. "Severus and I have been working on that," he said. "He has been able to make certain . . . connections that have proved useful. Voldemort will be where we need him at the proper time."

Harry's head snapped up. "You are trusting Snape? He hates me. Even more now, I bet. How do you know he's going to do whatever it is you need him to do? How do you know he's not feeding secrets to the Death Eaters right now?" Around the circle, everyone nodded.

Dumbledore sighed. "As I have told you before, Harry. I trust Professor Snape, and I have no doubt that he will be able to fulfill the role I have asked of him. I cannot say anything more without breaking his confidences. But if you trust me, Harry, and I think you do, then I ask that you trust my belief in Severus as well."

Harry nodded, a little petulantly, but didn't say anything else. The Headmaster continued.

"But you understand, you will have to go alone. I cannot put any of your friends at risk."

With this, Harry quite agreed; he had already made his peace with it. Protecting his friends was too important. Indeed, he rather wished Professor Dumbledore had not told them all the deadline; it would have been much easier if Harry had been able to slip away to his fate. He looked around the circle, a plea on his face. "It has to be this way, please don't protest. I don't think I could stand it. And yes, I know you would all be there in a heartbeat. I'm asking you, begging you actually, to let me do this alone."

For once, there was no argument. Solemn faces peered back at him. Ron opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. Ginny shook in his arms but didn't say a word.

A knock on the door interrupted the moment. A second later, Professor Snape strode in. He looked around the circle with an expression Harry thought was a mixture of contempt and pity. He had barely seen the man since Draco had died, and for a brief moment, he wondered what the man thought about Harry's role in the death. He shook his head; there were obviously more important things to think about now.

"Ahh, Severus, good. Did you get the information I requested?"

"Snape nodded tersely." It is done. "But there are a few . . . details to work out. Would you take a walk with me, later?"

The Headmaster nodded. "Of course, of course. The grounds are so lovely this time of year." Dumbledore turned to the assembled students. "If you will all excuse me, I need to talk to Professor Snape. I'd would like us to continue meeting, until . . . a week from Friday, if that is all right. I will send you all messages with the next time."

Everyone stood up to leave, looking, not surprisingly, kind of lost. As they walked out, Hermione said in a low voice, "Room of Requirement?" Harry nodded. He suspected that they would all be spending a lot of time there until a week from Friday.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

 **A week from Friday. Eleven Days.**

Everyone spends most of the day hiding in the Room of Requirement. Harry has designated this day as "get it out of your system," and there is a lot of crying, a little laughter, and of course, Hermione frantically trying to get the Room to give them "the book" that will explain how to save Harry's life.

 **A week from Friday, Ten Days.**

Everyone goes flying. Even Neville, who has never been comfortable on a broom. They toss a Quaffle back and forth in the air, release a Snitch to chase, and stay out until everyone is stiff and sore and exhausted and able to sleep.

 **A week from Friday, Nine Days.**

Harry takes Ginny to the Room of Requirement. They don't make love, not yet. They have decided to make that the activity for day three. But they do nearly everything else together. Harry sleeps well, again.

 **A week from Friday, Eight Days.**

Thanks to the Invisibility Cloak and some of Hermione's well-placed Disillusionment Charms, they sneak through the tunnels into Hogsmeade. Butterbeer, Honeydukes, even a trip to see the Shrieking Shack take up the entire day. Harry suspects that Dumbledore knows where they are, but they make it back without being discovered.

 **A week from Friday, Seven Days.**

Without actually saying goodbye, Harry begins the process of saying goodbye to the students and teachers of Hogwarts. He plays Exploding Snap with Dean and Seamus, walks with Pavarti and Lavender to class, talks to Colin Creevy about his camera, seeks out Professors McGonagall and Flitwick to ask "questions" about homework, and, hardest of all, has tea with Hagrid. Not telling any of them his plans was nearly impossible, and Harry returns from the grounds to go hide in his room for a while. Ginny finds him there. Snogging ensues.

 **A week from Friday, Six Days.**

Harry and his friends walk the entire castle. They run through the secret passageways, gorge themselves on snacks in the kitchens (Hermione refuses to eat), climb every tower, talk to the ghosts. The ghosts know what Harry is facing and urge him to "go on" when it is all over.

 **A week from Friday, Five Days.**

The hardest of all. On the thinnest of pretexts of needing to conduct an interview for History of Magic, Harry, Ron and Ginny go to the Burrow. They fly in the orchard, de-gnome the garden, eat too much of Molly's cooking, and talk and talk and talk. When Harry hugs Molly and Arthur goodbye, he's barely able to let them go.

 **A week from Friday, Four Days.**

The six of them walk the grounds from end to end. They visit the lake, point out the best trees to snog under, walk through the greenhouses, visit the Quidditch Pitch, watch the Whomping Willow from just out of the reach of its branches. They take a walk into the edges of the Forbidden Forest; Harry wants to try to find a Centaur. The Forest is peaceful and soon they find themselves in the clearing where Harry first encountered Voldemort, feasting on the blood of a downed unicorn. The silence is enormous and complete; the sun barely able to push its way through the tangled tree branches above them.

And Harry's scar explodes in pain as Voldemort steps out of the shadows.


	27. Battle of Souls

Harry could barely see through the pain in his scar. His heart was in his throat and he struggled to stay upright. _How could he have been so stupid?_

After all their planning and their talking and his determination – and Dumbledore's – to keep his friends away from this final moment, here they all were, together. Dumbledore, of course, was not.

Before Harry could even finish processing his thoughts, before he could yell to his friends to run, to send a Patronus, anything, three more figures stepped out of the shadows to stand next to their master. Two Death Eaters Harry recognized as Dolohov and Avery, and . . . Snape.

Harry found his voice.

"You!" he screamed. "I always knew it was you! That's how he knew to be here tonight, isn't it? You've been on his side all along. You even fooled Dumbledore!"

Behind him, Harry could hear his friends yelling too. They had all been walking together and they were still too close. _Why didn't they run?_

In front of him, Snape inclined his head in agreement of Harry's words. "I must avenge Draco's death, Potter. And the Headmaster is so trusting, so willing to believe that I have changed. It was almost too easy." He gave a little bow towards Voldemort. "As I promised, my Master."

And then Voldemort spoke in the voice Harry remembered from the graveyard and the Department of Mysteries and his nightmares.

"You did well, Severus. You have redeemed yourself after letting Malfoy fail so miserably. But this is better. Much better. Appropriate that we come full circle right here. You saw me here in your first year, Potter? Remember? My only mistake has always been to rely on others to do what it is clear to me that I must do myself.'

"No!" a voice screamed at him. A flash of red at the side of Harry's vision and Ron was standing next to Harry And Hermione was next to him and Ginny had stood on his left. Luna and Neville were in the line too, and they were all loosely arrayed in a semi-circle, wands out.

"You want Harry, you go through us first," said Ginny menacingly. Only Harry could hear the tremor of fear in her voice.

Voldemort laughed. "Oh, it would be quite a pleasure to go through all of you first," he said. "You are all the children from the Department of Mysteries, aren't you? I know you are good fighters, but I don't think you will be good enough. Run along home now, and no one else needs to get hurt."

No one moved. Voldemort shrugged. "As you wish," he said. He looked at the three men standing with him, and Harry realized that Nagini was curled at his feet as well. "Leave Potter to me. As for the others, you know what we have discussed."

In the tiny instant of silence, Harry said the only thing he could think. "I love you all," he choked out. "Ginny . . . "

And then the battle began. Immediately, Voldemort focused all of his attention on Harry. It was like watching him fight Dumbledore at the Department of Mysteries, but this time, Harry knew from the start that he was going to lose. He was not nearly powerful enough to fight for long and Voldemort was slowly moving him away from the others with his spells, and it was taking all of Harry's concentration to respond at all. He through everything he could at the wizard, and dodged and shielded himself at every turn, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't bind Voldemort with smoke or create monsters out of air, and he doubted that _Experlliarmus_ would work a second time.

He knew his friends – his love – were fighting too, he could hear them yelling and feel the heat from the hexes and curses that flew back and forth, but Voldemort had been tracing a circle around Harry and pulling it smaller and smaller, burning the ground around him so he couldn't move until he was frozen on a tiny patch of earth, molten fire scorching the ground so that if he stepped in any direction, he would burn.

"Enough!" shouted Voldemort, and he shot a spell to Harry's right. Harry turned his head just far enough to see his friends – all five of them – upright, huddled together. He could see where the Death Eaters' spells had hit them, Hermione was clutching her arm, Ron had a vivid bruise on his cheek and Ginny was bleeding from a gash on hers, but they were alive.

Harry realized that like them, his friends were unable to move, that Voldemort's spell had bound them to their spot and that he was going to force them to watch his destruction. But they would not be silent.

"You will never win!" screamed Neville.

"Loser!" yelled Ron. "Snape, you are a coward and a liar!"

Ginny didn't scream. "Harry," she called. "We are here, with you to the end. Don't forget that."

"I love you," he managed again and then there was a bang and Voldemort had silenced them all.

"So sweet," he said. "Your declarations of love. Useless, of course. That was always Dumbledore's biggest weakness, thinking that love was more important than power and strength. He will understand, finally, how wrong his was." He turned towards Harry "Your friends have fought for you, quite bravely. To no end, but still, they showed courage that I could use in the future. Maybe not the Mudblood," he said, looking at Hermione, "but I'm sure we can find some purpose for her too. I wonder what Greyback would think."

At this, Ron's face turned almost purple and Harry watched as he struggled against the bonds that held him. Voldemort chuckled. "Ahh, I see. The Mudblood and the blood traitor. Well, that will make things more interesting later."

"Let them go," Harry said dangerously. Voldemort showed a tiny moment of surprise that his silencing charm hadn't held. Then he shrugged. "Oh, I will let them go, if you want. I will let them all go. On one condition."

"Anything," said Harry. "Take anything from me. Just let them go."

"I think you know what I want," Voldemort said. "Draco was not able to get it, but I will have no trouble. And I think I have the perfect vessel for it too." He turned to Snape. "Severus?"

"Of course, my Master. Dumbledore was more than happy to let me have it, to study for curses and jinxes, of course." He walked over to a tree and for the first time, Harry saw the sword of Gryffindor leaning against it. Snape carried it over to Voldemort. "This will make an excellent Horcrux, my Master."

Voldemort's red eyes gleamed as he took the sword. "Perfect," he said. "This will be perfect." He turned to Harry. "As I said, I will let your friends go. But only after you stand before me, without your wand, and allow me to end this once and for all. What do you say?"

Harry had no choice; he didn't even pause to think. "Of course," he choked out. "Take it . . . take it out of me. Do whatever you need. Just . . . spare them. Please. I'm begging you to spare the ones I love."

"Love. Until the end, you put your faith in love," sneered Voldemort. "Those with power learn, eventually, that love is worthless. Drop your wand, Harry. And stand before me with only your love to protect you. Let's see its power then. I'll even let your friends talk to you while you die."

Harry dropped his wand and closed his eyes. His scar was inexplicably hurting less, but there was a pressure in his chest that was growing. He could hear his friends calling to him, as if from far away. They shouted declarations of encouragement and love and hope and it was unbearable and yet wonderful at the same time. He heard Voldemort chanting and it sounded like the words Draco had been saying before he had burst into flames. The pressure in his chest was growing but he didn't open his eyes, and then the words, spoken with more power than Harry had ever heard . . .

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPH

Harry came to awareness slowly. He was lying on solid ground but it did not feel like the dirt of the forest. The light in front of his closed eyes was much too strong, the air too still. He opened his eyes slowly and looked into misty white, swirling air. Nothingness but everything all at once. He was naked, but then suddenly clothed in warm, soft robes. Gryffindor colors, he noted.

 _Was he dead? Had it worked? Were his friends safe?_ The questions crowded his brain as Harry pushed himself into a sitting position and tried to figure out where he was. He had thought that death might be peaceful, but for now, Harry still wasn't feeling any peace with the wondering.

A piercing, wailing cry broke the silence. Under a bench, quite alone, a horribly flayed, mewling figure huddled on the ground, curled into a foetal position and shuddering in terrible pain. Harry was at once drawn to it and repulsed and he stood in front of it indecisively for a long minute, wondering if there was anything he could do to help.

"You can't help, my love, although I know you want to."

The voice came from behind him. Harry turned, and his heart leapt into his throat. Walking towards him were three figures. For a single moment, he thought, _Ron, Hermione, Ginny_ , and he was devastated to think that Voldemort had not kept his promises, that he had killed Harry only to destroy those more important to him too.

But then the mist cleared and Harry saw, really saw. His mum, dad, and Sirius were walking towards him. And Sirius had that gleam in his eye and his dad was laughing but Harry's eyes first sought out his mum. And for the first time he could remember, he looked into eyes that were exactly like his own and a second later felt the enveloping love that only a parent's hug can give.

He was not at all embarrassed that he cried. His mother held him for what felt like forever but only a moment, and then he was in his father's arms too, and then Sirius', apologizing over and over for his stupidity at the Department of Mysteries. Sirius waved him off.

"Turns out Dumbledore was right," he said. "Kreacher was a horrible piece of work, but I never showed him any respect or understanding either. I should have known that living for so long in that house would make anyone go round the bend."

"Am I dead?" Harry still wasn't sure.

"What do you think?" asked his dad.

Harry paused, thinking. "I don't feel as . . . peaceful . . . as I thought." He looked at the trio. "Don't get me wrong, being here, with you, it's the best gift I could ever imagine. I never thought . . ." He stopped, as tears threatened again. He sought out his mum's eyes. She was smiling at him, a loving, proud smile that he should have been able to see for things like winning the Quidditch Cup or achieving his Owls. "Mum, I don't know . . ." he began.

Her smile grew wider. "Oh, but I think you do know, love. Yes, you are welcome to stay, if you want. You can come with us right now, and the peace you seek will grow, eventually. Or, you can decide to go back. Finish what you started."

"I want to go back." The words ripped out of him almost involuntarily. Harry didn't want to see his parents' faces at his words, but when he looked at them, they were both smiling. Sirius' grin was almost a leer.

"You had an agreement, with a certain young lady, did you not? And I don't think it has been fulfilled," his godfather said. "I feel that it is my duty to ensure that you absolutely do not die a virgin."

"And mine as well," said James solemnly as Lily swatted at them both while Harry felt his face turn red. _Ten minutes with his parents and the conversation was already on sex?_ He sputtered, and his dad gave him an indulgent smile.

"Don't be embarrassed, son. I promise, if we had lived, you would have had it much worse."

And Harry understood they were giving him a taste of all he had missed, all he couldn't have because of Voldemort. And his heart swelled and he nodded.

"But how?" he asked. "When I left . . . when he did the Avada Kedavra, Voldemort had already said the spell to pull the Horcrux out of me. He was going to put it into the sword of Gryffindor. And I . . . since was the container, his spell should kill me."

"Ahh yes, the unintended Horcrux," said his dad. "It has lived within you for a long time, it has."

"It has done everything it can to survive," added Sirius.

"It changed you, and changed the way your friends saw you," nodded Lily.

"Yes," said Harry. "But I learned to fight that. We all learned to fight it."

His mum nodded. "It changed you, but being in you, changed it too. Why do you think Draco was unable to kill you? Why do you think he died instead?"

"I . . . I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "I thought it was because he wasn't strong enough. To beat the Horcrux, I mean. And because the Horcrux saw him as a threat. But Voldemort is much stronger, and he has finished the spell to reclaim the Horcrux in me. And it's a piece of his own soul, isn't it? So of course, it wants to serve its Master."

"Ahh, but you are much stronger too," said his dad. "To stand in front of Voldemort, without your wand, and declare only love for those closest to you, that is a power that he knows not."

"Love?" Harry was unsure. "That's enough?"

"That's everything," said Sirius. "We can't see for certain what will happen, but I don't think this is over."

"We love you so much," said his mum. "And we will be watching. Always."

Harry felt that pressure in his chest again. It was growing, threatening to burst out of him. Not painful, but all consuming. His parents and Sirius were starting to look a bit blurry around the edges and Harry knew he didn't have much time left with them.

"I love you all, so much," he said.

"We know," said his mum.

"Go get them," said his dad.

"Snape, Snape is there!" Harry suddenly remembered.

Sirius nodded. "The git. Kick him in the shins if you can."

"But . . . and I can't believe I'm saying this, but after you kick him, give him a break. He's a braver man than I would have ever expected of him," said James.

"Tell him I'll always love him," his mum said.

Harry couldn't ask any more. His parents and Sirius were walking back away from him and he wanted to keep their images in his mind as long as he could.

"I love you," he thought. "I love you so much. I love . . . Ginny."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Once again, Harry was lying on the ground, but this time, he knew without opening his eyes he was back in the forest. It wasn't quiet, exactly, but neither was there the yelling commotion he had left. There was muttering in front of him, where Voldemort had been, and to the side, he heard the quiet sobbing of a number of different voices. The pressure in his chest and the pain in his head were more intense than he had ever felt and the disorientation they caused was almost overwhelming.

The sobbing became louder and seemed to surround him and the muttering faded away. He could pick out each of his friends, from Hermione's quiet _no, no, no,_ to Ron's _it can't be, it just can't,_ to Luna's dreamy _he sees the veil and passed through._ But more than any others, Ginny's quiet sobbing pierced him. He couldn't no focus on the sound; it seeped into his brain and took away some of the stabbing pain. And the pressure in his chest grew.

Harry forced himself into a sitting position. Across the clearing, he could make out the figures of Voldemort and his two Death Eaters, huddled on the ground. Avery and Dolohov seemed to be attending to their master. Snape was upright, wand held loosely in his hand. He was looking at Harry with an inscrutable expression.

And between them, the fog that Harry had seen in the Room of Requirement hovered more thickly than he had ever seen it. It blurred Harry's vision but made him warm, and as he watched, it expanded to wrap itself around his friends.

Voldemort was getting to his feet, fear and shock on his face. And Harry stood too, picking up the wand he had dropped earlier, and felt the fog deepen.

In the back of his mind, he kept waiting to hear his friends the moment they saw him and realized he was alive, but now the fog had covered them so completely, Harry could see nothing but the dimmest of shapes.

And Voldemort himself looked blurry. He held his wand in one hand and when Avery handed him the sword of Gryffindor, he took it as well. But almost immediately, he dropped it as if he had been burned, like Draco had been. But Voldemort did not burst into flames. He raised his wand at Harry and screamed words that Harry could not hear. The fog between them was like a living thing, and Harry could see two heavy, glowing points within it, circling them. One was dark and fractured and hovered near Voldemort. The other was similar, but softer and paler and darted around in front of Harry as if it was a small dog looking for a bone.

Harry was suddenly reminded of the web that had surrounded him and Voldemort in the graveyard; the fog had the same feel of separating them from the rest of the world, making it just the two of them. Harry felt an anticipation like never before. He knew, somehow, that decisions were being made by the forces flying between him and Voldemort. He closed his eyes and thought of his friends. He thought of his parents, and how wonderful his mum's arms had felt. He thought most of all about Ginny, and how much he wanted to be able to fulfill so many promises for her. Promises he had never dared voice out loud.

The lighter, darting shape circled the fog surrounding Harry's friends and it cleared for a moment. Eyes met and Harry's heart filled as he saw the five reclaim hope.

The heavier shape was still fighting though, and for a minute, seemed ready to swallow the lighter one whole. Harry raised his wand, not sure any spell even existed for this situation. And then the dark shape rolled towards his friends and Harry turned away from Voldemort and screamed a _Protego_ , opening himself up to whatever the dark wizard wanted to do.

But instead, he was crumbling, before Harry's eyes. His skin became flayed and raw, and he dropped to his knees. His wand fell out of his hand and as Harry watched, the darker, heavier shape – the piece of Voldemort's soul that had resided inside of the Dark Lord and kept him tethered to life, hit Harry's shield and exploded. But Voldemort was still alive, screaming in agony and calling for Snape's help. The other Death Eaters were backing away, and as Harry watched, Snape lifted his wand and Stunned each of them. He looked at Harry.

"Did you see her?" Harry knew he was talking about Lily. He nodded. "She said she will always love you," he called, the words sounding foreign on his tongue as he spoke to his nemesis.

Snape nodded too. "Thank you," he said simply. He looked briefly at Voldemort, who was rapidly morphing into the horrible figure Harry had seen. "Your master, Nagini," said Snape. And the snake slithered up to Voldemort and dissolved into him and Voldemort crumbled a little more.

Harry looked at the last piece of soul left. The lighter Horcrux that he had carried inside him for almost sixteen years. He closed his eyes and concentrated, pouring all the love he had to give, and all that had been given to him, into the tiny point of light. It had tried to kill him, yes. But had also tried to protect him, and in doing so, had become less of Voldemort and more of Harry. He understood now.

"Be free," he thought, and the tiny light grew bigger and bigger until it chased away the fog and both disappeared together with a tiny, insignificant pop.

A moment of absolute silence, and then suddenly Harry was surrounded. He wanted to scream with joy and crow with relief and laugh and yell and hug. But first . . .

"Wait," he said. "We need to make sure . . ."

"He's dead. Completely." Snape was still standing across the clearing. "You destroyed his soul and the last piece chose not to return to him. It killed him to protect you."

Harry arms had found Ginny while Snape was talking and he felt an overwhelming desire to just whirl her away somewhere where they didn't have to listen to anyone else for a while. But he knew this victory belonged to many, so he kissed her on the forehead and turned back to Snape.

Ron was talking. "You . . . when we were fighting. Your spells, they kept . . . just missing us. Was that on purpose?"

Snape bowed his head. "I . . . would rather not speak of it. I have . . . promises that must be fulfilled."

"My mum," Harry said, suddenly understanding.

"I would rather not speak of it," Snape said again, with a little more of his familiar malice this time.

"Of course, Severus, ask them to keep secret the best part of you."

Dumbledore was striding into the clearing, a wide smile on his face. He walked up to Harry.

"You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. You did it!" The Headmaster was giddier than Harry ever remembered seeing him. His arms were wide and to Harry's surprise, the blackened hand that had sickened Harry all year seemed to be healing.

"But sir, what did I do, exactly?" Exhaustion was threatening, but Harry had to know.

"You proved that love really does conquer all," said Dumbledore. "Including the darkest, most evil soul. I first suspected that it might be, changing allegiances, when you stopped becoming so ill in my presence. That you were able to find a way to fight it so quickly, and that your strength drew on the love and loyalty you and your friends have for each other, should not have been a surprise. And I believe, that just as the Horcrux caused your personality to change for the worse, for a time, so too did your own strengths eventually overcome its evil."

"But your hand. And Snape . . .?"

"Professor Snape, Harry, made sure that you were all here, together, and that Voldemort knew you would be. For the element of surprise only strengthened your determination to save your friends, and I believe it gave you more power to fight the evil as well. As for my hand . . ." The Headmaster looked at Snape. "a curse tied to a life force?"

The potions master nodded. "He never suspected you would outlive him."

"So, Harry beat Voldemort twice tonight." Ginny's voice was assured. "Once because he beat the Horcrux and once because he beat the man."

"A fine way of looking at it, Miss Weasley," said Dumbledore. His eyes twinkled. "Although, I daresay that his task was only achievable because the rest of you helped him do it."

"That's right," said Harry. The adrenaline of the past weeks and days and hours was almost gone, but he knew how important it was to say this first. "I only found the strength to fight it because I knew I was fighting for all of you."

"Fighting for the right to snog my sister, you mean," quipped Ron. It broke the intensity of the moment and suddenly, they were laughing – real laughter that wasn't trying to hide their fear or fake anything.

And in the middle of the laughter, Harry heard Ginny's sudden sharp intake of breath. He got there a minute later and looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. Her eyes were dilated and she was looking at him with the intensity he loved, and he could finally look back without having to worry about breaking her heart. And it was the voices of Sirius and him mum and dad he heard in his head as he leaned in to kiss her in a way that, at any other time, would have been appropriate only for the most private of spaces. "It doesn't have to be immediately, anymore," he whispered to her. She understood what he meant and nodded.

"When we are ready," she said.

"Most definitely," replied Harry, now thinking of nothing more than taking Ginny up to Gryffindor tower for a long nap, a shower, a snog, and a sandwich, although maybe not in that order. "I have a promise to keep to my dad and godfather."

A/N: And, it's done! (Again, lol). I will write outtatkes at some point, but I have the rest of the Reversing Course to finish and then I do want to get back to Servant of Death. What is is with me and stories about the Horcrux inside Harry that make me procrastinate? It hopefully won't take me another ten years to get that one finished.


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